


The Epic of the Lambs (Straight Out From Underneath)

by withdiamonds



Category: Popslash
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-01
Updated: 2006-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 82,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withdiamonds/pseuds/withdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The epic love story of Lance Bass and Justin Timberlake</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> _**stranger:**_ a: a person or thing that is unknown or with whom one is unacquainted **b:** one who does not belong to or is kept from the activities of a group **c:** one not privy or party to an act, contract, or title

Lance doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He can’t believe they’re really doing this, and he can’t believe he’s here, at the WEG Compound of all places, back in Orlando, Florida. That’s a place he thought he’d left behind years ago. Okay, not that many years, but still.

When he pictured coming to these offices again, he imagined acrimonious meetings to arrange the dissolution of everything, meetings for the purpose of assigning blame, hostile and vituperative gatherings where people would fling angry accusations at each other. It’s been a while since he’s pictured calm, reasonable, companionable group meetings, where maybe they can discuss getting together and making a new CD, or even touring again.

That’s because it’s been a while since they’ve had anything resembling a group meeting at all, and Lance had begun to think maybe they never would again. It’s possible he bears some of the responsibility for that.

But apparently, JC and Justin have decided they’re ready, and so here they all are. Because it doesn’t matter what the rest of them might want, so long as JC and Justin are ready.

And bitter sarcasm isn’t going to get them very far, so Lance makes an agreement with himself to suppress the impulse as best he can, for as long as he’s able. But he’s not guaranteeing himself anything once Justin arrives.

He studies the people gathered around the table in the conference room. Johnny looks older, which makes sense, because he is, but he also looks wary. Lance doesn’t blame him a bit. Lance isn’t only wary, he’s downright terrified.

Joey, god, Joey looks as comfortable as ever. Of course, Lance has never stopped seeing Joey. Their TV show was only recently cancelled, early this year in fact, and it’s still the most fun Lance can remember having. Not that his memory is selective these days. Not at all. Joey smiles reassuringly at him, and tells him a story about Briahna and one of the boys in her class at school, and how he’d tried to butt in front of her in the lunch line. “And she totally threatened to kick his ass if he did it again,” Joey recounts proudly. As far as Lance can gather, Briahna rules the second grade with an iron fist. She definitely takes after Kelly, and not just because of her wild, curly hair.

JC doesn’t look comfortable at all. Lance talked to him just last week, and he knows JC thinks this whole thing is a little premature. He may be ready, but he’s not sure anyone else is. He nervously rubs a hand across the back of his neck until Chris reaches up and stops him, holding onto his wrist and smiling gently at him until some of the tension leaves him.

Chris is ready. In spite of everything, Chris never stopped thinking of himself as Justin’s best friend, although sometimes his secret best friend, and his is the least friendly face Lance sees when he looks around. Chris’s gaze is almost hostile when his eyes meet Lance’s.

And Lance thinks all over again about what a bad idea this is.

By the time Justin shows up, JC has relaxed some and Joey’s the one who’s edgy now, arguing with Johnny about the best Italian restaurant in Orlando, and seeming seriously put out when Johnny doesn’t agree with him.

Justin pokes his head around the door, face a little flushed, eyes bright, apologizing breathlessly for being late, saying something about traffic. Leave it to Justin to make an entrance.

The Justin Lance remembers was never, ever late, but Lance hasn’t seen that Justin in years.

Chris is up out of his chair, flinging himself at Justin in a way that feels almost like a message to Lance, as if he’s establishing right away whose side he’s on. Lance was hoping there weren’t going to be sides, but really, he should know better than that.

Lance stands up, but he hangs back, letting JC and Joey and Johnny do all the back-slapping and hugging and “How are you, man?” they need to. Then they move out of the way, and he gets his first unobstructed view of Justin.

His hair is short, light brown, almost red, really, with fledgling curls clinging all over his head. He looks good, healthy, not pale or too thin like some of the recent pictures Lance has seen in _US_ and _People_. Lance studies Justin’s arms and shoulders, and he can visualize what’s beneath the green polo shirt easily enough, hard muscles rippling under smooth, warm skin. Even though he hasn’t seen Justin up close in quite a while, Lance knows what’s there. And no matter what else happens in Justin’s life, he never stops going to the gym.

Justin hesitates as JC pulls back from a hug, and Joey turns and looks at Lance. Justin’s expression is uncertain, like he doesn’t know what to do next, and damned if Lance does either. But they have to do something, because everyone is waiting for them. And they said they could do this, and Lance agreed to try, so he takes a tentative step around the table, holding out his hand.

“Hey, J.” His throat is dry, and his voice catches a little, and that’s so not how he wanted this to go. It somehow seems vital to have the upper hand, so he stands up a little straighter and says as casually as he can, “How you doing, man?”

Justin reaches forward and shakes his hand, then quickly drops it. “Good, good,” he says, nodding his head. “You?”

Lance nods back at him. “Fine. I’m good. Real good.”

“Good.” Justin says again, and Chris snorts. Lance realizes no one else seems to be breathing, and he tells himself for the millionth time that this is never going to work. They’re all totally fooling themselves if they think it is.

*

 _Justin thought maybe this one was going to work out. He sure hoped so, because he liked Bob Jackson just fine. He’d been a good vocal coach, even if he was always trying to get Justin to sing in a lower register than Justin really wanted to sing in. Justin was all about the falsetto, although with Chris and Joey around, the group really didn’t need to rely on Justin, at least that was what Robin was always telling him._

 _But Justin had a hard time buying the idea that if he kept pushing his voice into its upper range, at his age he could do some permanent damage to his vocal cords. Please. His vocal cords were just fine. Justin could worry about his own vocal cords, thank you._

 _And now it looked like ol’ Bob had finally found someone who would sing as low as he wanted them to. Justin looked around furtively, half-afraid his mom had learned how to be in two different places at once. She’d know just by looking at him that he was thinking disrespectful thoughts about Mr. Jackson. And, really, Justin was the one who suggested calling him in the first place, so it’s not like Justin didn’t respect him._

 _Justin was almost positive about the kid Bob sent them to try out, but not quite. Oh, sure, his voice was deep and smooth and pretty amazing for someone who was only sixteen years old. But he was kind of a dork, even compared to JC, who was the biggest dork on the face of the planet. Justin shook his head. JC had seemed a lot less dorky on the Mouse Club, he had actually been kind of hot, but now that he was in charge of his own hair and clothes? Well, let’s just say Justin knew why the MMC had hair and wardrobe people on the payroll._

 _But this Lance Bass kid, whoa. Not only was his hair completely dweeby, he dressed like he just got off the bus from Smalltown, USA High School, which Justin guessed he probably just did._

 _Still, there was something in his eyes when they finished singing together, something in the way he looked from the guys back to his mom, hope warring with fear, and a fierce desire for something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted until today. Justin liked that._

 _Lou, Robin, Mrs. Bass and Justin’s mom were still closeted in Lou’s biggest conference room talking the whole thing over. JC and Joey sat on the couch in the reception area, Lance huddled between them. He kept shooting miserable glances at the closed conference room door, while Joey and JC pelted him with questions about what kind of music he liked, what were his favorite TV shows, and did he like Coke or Pepsi. Chris was sitting across from them, watching intently, like he was going to pounce on the wrong answer, which in Chris’s twisted-up head, could be anything. Like maybe Lance liked Dr. Pepper best or something._

 _Justin made up his mind. He sauntered over to the losers on the couch, and shoved his way between JC and Lance. He knew better than to try and shove Joey around. Someday. If the size of his hands and feet were any indication, someday he’d be able to kick Joey’s ass._

 _Justin plopped himself down on the couch, elbowed Lance, and said, “She’ll say yes. My mom got y’all here, didn’t she? She’s real good. Your mom’ll say yes.”_

 _Lance looked like he was surprised Justin knew that it was his mother he was sitting here stewing about, and not whether or not they wanted him in the group. Justin smiled at him. They may have just met yesterday, but Justin recognized a kindred spirit when he saw one, bad hair or not. He figured that in Lance’s eyes, his mom was the biggest obstacle between him and what he wanted, and if his mom said no, then Lance wouldn’t know what to do. Justin had had a lot of experience with that dilemma himself.“Yeah, but my mom…” Lance sent another anxious glance the conference room’s way. The other guys were quiet, Chris staring intently at Lance, Joey and JC exchanging looks over Lance’s head._

 _“No problem, man,” Justin said breezily. He knew his momma’s powers of persuasion were almost as good as his own. She could talk Mrs. Bass into this, he was sure of it._

 _He fixed his eyes on Chris. Now that Justin had decided Lance was the one, he didn’t want any resistance from Chris. If Chris didn’t want Lance in the group, he was perfectly capable of making Lance’s life a living hell, and they really didn’t need that. Justin nodded determinedly at Chris, and Chris cocked his head, blinking. After a minute, during which Justin pretty much forgot to breathe, Chris nodded back. Justin relaxed. Chris would keep using JC to scratch his itch to ridicule and annoy people, and he’d leave Lance alone. JC could take it._

 _But it turned out Lance could take it too. Not only that, he could dish it out as well. At their celebratory dinner, while Mrs. Bass sat with Lou and Justin’s momma in the noisy din of the Planet Hollywood and worked out the details of whether to leave Lance here in Florida so they could get started right away, or take him home to let him finish up a few things at school, Justin realized that Lance had a friendly, dry sense of humor and a gift for sarcasm that rivaled Chris’s. Down at their end of the table, he countered every parry with a joke or sly jab of his own, and soon Chris was eyeing him with respect and a speculative interest that Justin wasn’t sure he liked. Chris did not need another partner in crime. He already had Justin._

 _Later, Justin and his mom dropped Lance and Mrs. Bass off at the Marriott where they were staying, which Justin was sure Lou wasn’t paying for. Justin hopped out of the car to walk with Lance to the hotel lobby door, while his mom hung out of the car window, talking to Mrs. Bass. Lance’s mom still seemed a little doubtful, although she had already said yes and Justin wasn’t ever going to let her take it back._

 _He nudged Lance with his elbow and grinned at him. Lance beamed back at him, his eyes shining with excitement. It didn’t even matter to Justin that he was still the youngest in the group. Lance was only two years older than him, and anyway, Justin was way ahead of Lance in experience, so they were kind of even. Plus, Justin was used to it. It wasn’t like Jason hadn’t been older than Justin, too. He frowned when he thought about Jason. He was still pissed that Jason had ditched them with only two weeks until the showcase. Asshole._

 _Lance had been babbling something about his dog back home, and he stammered to a stop when he saw Justin’s sudden frown. “No, not you, dude. I’m just thinking about something else.” Justin waved a hand at Lance._

 _Lance smiled again and went back to the story of how his dog had treed a raccoon last week. Justin listened to his voice rumble around the lobby of the Marriott, and as Mrs. Bass hurried in and told Justin his momma was waiting for him, Justin impulsively threw his arm around Lance’s shoulder and gave him a quick hug goodbye._

 _He decided he was grateful to Jason for bailing after all._

*

“Well, now that we’ve established that we’re all good, how’s about we sit down and get this party started?” Chris says. JC’s looking uncomfortable again, and Joey’s squinting back and forth between Justin and Lance, but he doesn’t say anything, thank the Lord.

Lance and Justin back away from each other, and Lance sits down in his chair, keeping his eyes on the table in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Justin take the seat next to Chris, and then there’s a long moment of silence before Johnny clears his throat.

And Lance is positive that he can’t do this. He doesn’t know what made him think he could, or why he would even want to try. He’s contractually obligated of course, but he doesn’t really give a rat’s ass about that right now. There’s no way the others would hold him to it if he just outright refused. They wouldn’t force him to into it, not after everything that’s happened.

His mother, on the other hand, would not be happy with him if he changed his mind. She seems to think it’s time he and Justin make an attempt to be friends again, or at the very least to stop letting their personal shit stand in the way of an *NSYNC reunion. Lance thinks she’s wrong about that, but when JC called him, and then Chris too, she’d been all for it. Lance is still a little pissed at her for that. _He’s_ her son, and he doesn’t care how much she loves and misses Justin, she’s supposed to be on Lance’s side.

And there’s that side thing again, and Lance really has to stop thinking like that, or he might as well get up and walk out the door right now.

He makes himself stay, and it’s actually not so bad. They discuss studio availability and locations, recording schedules, and timetables. They kick around the names of various producers, JC and Justin having both worked with more of them than Lance can shake a stick at. He expects some arguments at this point, but everyone is being careful not to rock the boat the first day, and so Justin and JC defer politely to one another until Chris jumps in, growling with irritation.

“Jesus, we’ll never get anything done this way. Yes, Justin, JC is a genius in the studio, and yes, JC, Justin has the best ear for talent ever, but for fuck’s sake, express a fucking opinion or shut up and let someone else do it,” he says impatiently.

They’re a little less careful after that, and anyway, it’s obvious they’ve already talked about this stuff. Lance remembers that everyone but him has still been talking to Justin for forever, and maybe they’re just being careful for his sake, to make things go as smoothly as they can manage it.

He can’t say he’s not grateful for that.

Chris wants to go out to dinner when they’re done, but Lance doesn’t think he wants to do that. The meeting was enough for one day. He tries to explain, waving a towel at Joey in the bathroom, saying, “I just wanna go home right now, okay? Is it really all that unreasonable of me?”

Joey shakes off, zips up and says, “I think it’s a good idea to go grab a bite, Lance. It might make things seem more…normal, or something.”

“Jesus, Joe, things are never gonna be _normal_ , are you fucking kidding me? I just, I think it’d just be better, _safer_ for, like, the future of the group, if I just go home. I’ll tell Kel you’ll be in later.” How can Joey not get this, that Lance has done all he can today, that he can try again for _normal_ tomorrow.

Joey peers at him doubtfully in the mirror over the sink as he washes his hands. “You’re gonna have to learn how to be in the same room with him again sometime, Lance. You might as well start now.”

“Well, thank you for those words of wisdom, Joey. I mean, shit, why didn’t I think of that?” He’s suddenly furious that he has to _explain_ this to Joey.

“Don’t be a dick, Lance,” Joey says quietly, in the same voice he uses when Briahna refuses to turn the TV off when it’s time for her to go to bed.

“Fine,” Lance snarls. “I’m a dick. But I’m going home.”

He brushes past the others in the hallway as he heads toward the door. He hears Chris’s voice raised in a question, but mostly he’s aware of Justin, laughing with Johnny and JC, as Lance passes him, refusing to look at him. Justin’s laughter fades as Joey says, “I guess it’s just the five of us tonight. Come on, John, I’ll show you what I mean when I say a _good_ Italian restaurant.”

Lance sits in his car for ten minutes, leaning his head on the steering wheel, just breathing, before he turns it on and heads for Joey’s house.


	2. Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Curve: a:** deviation from a straight line; to cause to curve **b:** a line defined by an equation so that the coordinates of its points are functions of a single independent variable **c:** a curving line of the human body **d:** the relative performance of individuals measured against each other **e:** the course of progress while learning something

The next few days are a blur of meetings and lunches at the Compound, and they even eat breakfast at Denny’s once, although Chris bitches so much about that that they agree never to do it again just to shut him up.

“Oh my God, you freak, shut up,” Justin growls. “Your sorry ass never has to get out of bed before noon again, okay? Just stop with the bitching.”

Chris nods his head firmly. “There’s just no reason for it, ya know? At this stage of my life-”

Justin bangs his head softly on the table and Lance almost smiles at how familiar it all seems. “Oh, God, not that again. Come on, let’s get you out of here before you talk yourself into an early grave.” Justin grabs Chris’s arm and pulls. Chris jams his sunglasses on his face and lets himself be towed out of the restaurant.

JC just smiles and follows them without a word.

Joey walks out to the parking lot with Lance. They agree that yes, it’s a bit early in the morning, especially for the Justin-and-Chris show. And they wonder for the millionth time how JC ever tolerated riding with them for all those years. At least Lance and Joey’s bus only had ferrets and dogs on it.

They head back to the Compound for yet another meeting, this time about the logistics of getting some of JC’s favorite equipment from his studio in LA to the studio here in Orlando that they’ve decided to use first. It’s the one where they recorded most of _No Stings Attached_ and it’s kind of a nostalgia thing to at least start recording there this time. At least that’s what Lance thinks JC means when he’s going on and on about it. Lance wonders why, if JC is so emotionally bonded to his soundboard, they can’t just go to LA to record, where at least it’s civilized. Or where he isn’t seeing an 18-year old Justin around every corner, he admits to himself. Orlando’s not such a bad city. It was very good to him once upon a time.

Things have gotten easier since that first day, Lance thinks. Frequent close proximity to Justin dulls the effect, building up Lance’s immunity a little bit more each day. It gets easier not to react to the happiness of Justin’s laugh when he deals with everyone who isn’t Lance, or the curve of the smile that never reaches his eyes when it _is_ directed at Lance.

JC and Justin must have been writing new songs for quite a while, because they keep bringing them into the small studio at the Compound and playing them, their eyes anxiously watching the other three while they all listen. Sometimes they’re not anxious, sometimes they gaze confidently around the room, grinning with delight when Chris starts humming along to the chorus, or Joey starts taping out a rhythm with a couple of pencils. Okay, on JC it looks like confidence. On Justin, it looks at lot like arrogance. Lance sighs. And okay, he’s not the most impartial observer in the world. And that last song of Justin’s was pretty good, especially the bass line.

Lance notices that Justin backs off when the vocals head up into falsetto, just nodding his head and smiling, pointing up at the ceiling to indicate the range, and then at Joey. Joey grins back at him and Lance grits his teeth to keep from reminding Joey that the only reason he gets to sing more is because Justin fucked up his vocal cords trying to out-Michael Michael a few years back.

~~~~~

 _Justin had to bite his tongue to keep himself from blurting out all sorts of helpful advice. Lance was one of the most competitive people Justin had ever met, and he worked very hard, and he’d been putting in more hours than anyone else, ever since the German record company guys said he wasn’t good enough. Justin was intelligent enough to know that keeping his mouth shut at rehearsal was the smart thing to do. That’s why they had a choreographer to help Lance get better, and they hadn’t given that assignment to Justin._

 _Even Chris seemed to realize it was best to stay out of it, and he was using their unexpected downtime to try and annoy JC into reacting to him. If Chris wasn’t careful, he was going to get more of a reaction than he bargained for, and Justin thought it would serve him right. Justin could have told him that waving his hands around in JC’s face when he was trying to talk to Vince about their upcoming recording schedule, or poking him continuously in the side when he was discussing travel arrangements with Justin’s mom was not a good idea. You didn’t poke JC when he was trying to convince people that he was a responsible adult, not if you valued your life._

 _Justin sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, sipping from his water bottle and scrutinizing the way Lance moved. He made no bones about staring, and if anyone said anything about it, well, he was allowed to watch Lance dance. They were a group, and Justin had a vested interest, whatever that meant, in making sure Lance’s dancing improved._

 _He was definitely not watching the way Lance’s ass looked in those old track pants he wore to practice, and no one could prove he was. He felt kind of warm as he thought about it. He’d never looked at guys that way before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He also didn’t know_ why _he was doing it, although he had some pretty good ideas._

 _He suspected it might have something to do with Lance’s ass in those track pants._

 _Lance frowned down at his feet, and Justin could clearly see the exhaustion lurking under the determination written across his face. Justin checked his watch. Another fifteen minutes of Jerome and Lance working alone, then they’d all try the song together again for an hour or so. After that, they were going back to the hotel for a late dinner with the record company guys. And after that, they actually had an hour or two to do whatever they wanted before going to bed. The hotel had a pool, one of those weird, indoor pools on, like, the third floor that European hotels sometimes had. Maybe they could swim or something._

 _“Aaack! Help me, Joey!” Chris suddenly shrieked. “Help me- ow, JC, you ass, quit it!” JC had hold of Chris’s index finger and was bending it back, very painfully if the way Chris was yelling was any indication. Freaks. Justin debated joining the fray, but the expression of grim purpose on JC’s face kept him sitting right where he was. It was a heck of a lot safer here on the floor._

 _Jerome and Lance stopped shuffling through the steps of_ Here We Go _and stood together with their hands on their hips, glaring at Chris and JC. Justin thought they looked pretty gay._

 _Justin sighed. Lance seemed really comfortable with being gay. He wasn’t embarrassed about it and he didn’t try to hide it, at least around the people he knew well. Maybe that’s where Justin was getting all these new ideas from, from Lance not being weird about it._

 _Lance raised his eyebrows at Chris and JC, then bent to pick his towel off the floor. Okay, when it came to this new checking out guys thing, Justin could safely say Lance’s ass might be a factor._

 _They did get to go swimming later, at least Justin and Lance did. No one else wanted to, and Justin and Lance suspected that there maybe was going to be some drinking happening in Chris’s room, to which Justin and Lance definitely weren’t invited._

 _Justin didn’t care. Who wanted to sit around and watch Chris and Joey act even sillier than usual, while JC fell asleep after two beers, stretched out fully-dressed across the bed, when he could be here, watching the way Lance’s bathing suit clung to his hips? Maybe it would slide down, just a little, and Justin would be able to see the trail of hair that led from Lance’s navel down into the front of his suit._

 _And maybe if he spent a little bit of time half-naked with Lance, he could figure out what was going on in his own head._

 _They splashed around in the pool for a while, before Lance paddled to the side and draped his arms over the tiled edge, tilting his head back so that he could stare at the weird decorative ceiling. Justin thought maybe there were shepherds and lambs and a few cherubs up there. Tilting his head like that made Lance’s Adam’s apple really prominent. Justin stared at it, wondering what it would be like to touch it. Would it vibrate when Lance talked?_

 _Justin drifted closer, trailing his fingers behind him through the water. There was something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how. He tried to think of a way to put it that didn’t sound arrogant. He wasn’t actually the best dancer in the group, that was JC, no question, although it was close, but he knew he was really good. Lance would be good too, soon enough, and Justin didn’t want Lance to think he was being condescending or anything._

 _“I think you’re getting better, dude.” Lance looked over at him sharply. “For serious.” Justin looked steadily back. Lance held his eyes for a long moment and Justin felt himself start to flush from the weight of Lance’s gaze._

 _Finally Lance nodded. “I know, it feels better almost every time I run through the choreography. It’ll be okay.” His eyes were quietly confident and he smiled at Justin. Justin beamed happily back at him._

 _Then suddenly Lance pounced, grabbing Justin’s shoulders and dunking him under the water. Which he had only been able to do because he caught Justin completely off guard. No way could he have done that if Justin had been ready for him._

 _Justin broke the surface, blowing water out of his nose. “Oh, you’re so dead, you fucker!”_

 _Lance laughed and swam away, pushing off the side of the pool, kicking water in Justin’s face._

 _Justin sputtered indignantly, then launched himself after Lance. He managed to grab one of Lance’s ankles and he yanked hard. Lance’s other foot skidded on the bottom of the pool and he went under, his arms flailing wildly._

 _Justin pursued his advantage, ruthlessly trying to drown his bandmate. Lance fought back gallantly, and Justin thought maybe he’d managed to swallow half the pool by the time he stopped to catch his breath. Laughing underwater was never a good idea. Lance wriggled out of his grip and Justin felt bare skin slipping under his hands and his palm slid over the curve of Lance’s hip, and he wasn’t laughing quite so much. He wasn’t laughing at all, anymore, really. He jerked his hand away, hoping Lance wouldn’t notice. They stood together in the middle of the pool, breathing hard, both from exertion and from something Justin didn’t want to name yet, and again Lance smiled at him._

 _It was a great smile, knowing and shy at the same time. Justin felt warmth blossom in his belly and he smiled back._

~~~~~

“What do you mean, we’re putting things on hold for a few days?” Lance is annoyed before he even knows what’s going on. Joey looks like he’s annoyed right back at him as he comes in from the kitchen, holding his cell phone.

“That was Johnny,” he says, waving the phone around. “Something’s come up, and we’re just gonna chill a bit for now.” He doesn’t look at Lance as he settles back on the couch, putting his phone on the coffee table, parking his feet beside it.

“What? What do you mean, something’s come up?” Now Lance is totally pissed, because God, he’s here, they’re doing this, and now they’re not? “What is it?”

“Jesus, Lance, look at you, you’re all mad before you even know what’s going on.” Joey sits up again, frowning, his feet hitting the carpet with a muffled thump.

“Well, what _is_ going on?” Lance isn’t going to say he’s sorry for yelling, he has every right to be mad, even if he doesn’t know why yet. He thinks the last few years have given him license to be mad anytime he wants.

“Justin has to go back to LA for a few days. Three, tops,” Joey says. Now he looks at Lance, waiting for him to react.

Lance obliges. “You have got to be kidding me. You are, right? You’re _fucking_ kidding me, _right?”_ Lance can’t believe this. He should have known this would happen. He’s surprised it hasn’t happened already. He’s surprised Justin lasted this long.

He’s surprised at how surprised he is. He’d thought-well, it didn’t matter what he’d thought. He’s been thinking a lot of things, actually. But now, Justin is bailing.

“They’re just going to do a few reshoots on the movie. Just a couple of scenes, he says.” Now Joey’s using his soothing voice, the one he uses when Briahna wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. Lance is far from soothed.

“Right. A couple of scenes. Uh huh. I knew it! I knew this would happen.” Lance is up, pacing, waving his arms around like some kind of crazy person. He makes himself stop, folding his arms around his middle. He takes a deep breath, focuses on Joey’s concerned face, and listens to Joey’s concerned voice.

“You knew what would happen, Lance? What do you think happened?”

“I knew he’d bail! It’s barely been two weeks, and he’s bored. He’s bored and he’s running back to Hollywood, to-” He stops himself again. That’s enough. He makes himself sit down on the couch next to Joey.

“Lance, man, you know all about reshoots. It happens. That’s all that’s going on here. He’ll be back in two days, three, tops.” Joey turns to face him, tucking his foot up under his leg.

“Bullshit,” Lance fumes.

Now Joey’s just exasperated. “Lance, he’s committed to this, you know he is. He really wants this. We wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.” He puts his hand on Lance’s arm, but Lance shakes it off and bounds to his feet again.

“And that really sucks, Joey,” he says furiously. “He defines us all, did you ever notice that? We only do stuff-”

“Now _that’s_ bullshit,” Joey interrupts forcibly. "The group maybe, these days, but not _us_. He doesn’t define the rest of us, Lance.” Joey pauses, like he’s unsure of how to say what he wants to say next. “It's just you, man.” He looks over Lance’s shoulder, and Lance turns toward the doorway to the kitchen, where Kelly is standing with a sad smile on her face.

“Sweetie, you know it hasn’t only been Justin,” she says. “It’s been all of you, all of _us_. You know that.”

Lance does knows that, he knows Kelly’s right. He needs to stop reacting. That’s the trick, that’s what’s going to keep him sane through all this. He needs to stop reacting to Justin.

Joey sighs. “Lance, I’m telling ya, he’ll be back in two days, three days-”

“Yeah, three days tops, Joe. I got it.”

Lance uses the downtime to fly to Vegas. He wants to go for three days, but only stays two, just in case. He thinks it’s damn optimistic of him, and gives himself points for that. He can drink a lot of vodka, listen to a lot of bad music, and play a lot of poker in two days. There’s something very soothing in the flick of the cards against his fingers, the quiet chink of chips thrown carelessly to the middle of the table, the studied casualness of his hands sweeping even more chips into a triumphant pile in front of him.

There’s something soothing, too, in the smooth skin and skillful mouth of the most readily available of his usual Vegas hookups. He even lets the guy fuck him, which may not have been the best idea he ever had, because it leaves him feeling more alone than he did to start with. That doesn’t stop him from doing it again the next morning, before leaving for the airport to catch his flight back to Orlando.

Joey doesn’t say a word about his pale face and bloodshot eyes when Lance lets himself into the house in the late afternoon, just gives him a hug and plants a wet kiss in the middle of his forehead. Then he sics Briahna on him, sending them to the home theater to watch movies on his gigantic screen.

He and Briahna watch _Shrek 3_ and Lance recounts his poker victories to her during Justin’s parts.

After dinner, Joey tells him all about what they did while he was gone, which seems to be a big, fat nothing as far as Lance can see. Which, as he refrains from pointing out to Joey, was his whole point. When Justin’s not there, the rest of them wait. That could be the subtitle of Lance’s life- _Waiting For Justin._ But he knows that’s not as true for the rest of them, and he’s too jet-lagged to argue with Joey tonight, so he keeps his mouth shut.

When Justin comes back after being gone for three days, Lance has to get used to being in the same room with him all over again.

~~~~~

 _They bounded off the stage, laughing and high on the screams and applause from the audience. Scrambling for the van, Lance found himself stumbling into Justin, and for a minute he was afraid they were both going down._

 _“Whoa, dude, watch it,” Justin laughed, and they clutched at each other to keep from falling. Lance couldn’t help it, he held on to Justin a little longer than necessary, until JC bumped into them from behind and Chris yelled, “Come on, what’s the hold-up?” from the seat next to the driver that he’d already claimed as his own._

 _They piled in behind Joey, and Justin ended up sitting next to Lance in the middle seat. They were all talking a mile a minute about the show and the girls and how loud and amazing it all was._

 _“And Lance, dude, you rocked,” exclaimed Justin hoarsely. He’d been nursing another cold and Lance’s mom had told him that Lynn was worried about his tonsils again. He just couldn’t shake the colds completely, and one would get better only to be replaced by an even worse one. Lance didn’t know how Justin was doing it. He was surviving on Nyquil and Tylenol, the German directions on the bottles sometimes making him squint in confusion and say, “Lance, c’mere, what do you think this means?”_

 _Lance would want to go get his mom or Lynn to help decipher the long German phrases, but Justin always said, “No, no, dude, come on, we can figure this out. You’re a smart guy, look at this, does this look like teaspoon or tablespoon to you?”_

 _“I think it’s teaspoon, Justin. I don’t think you’re supposed to drink a whole tablespoon of Nyquil at once.”_

 _And Justin would laugh, and then wince when it made him cough. “Ouch,” he’d say, and sigh._

 _Now he started coughing again, and Lance fished around on the floor of the van for his backpack. He had some cough drops in there somewhere, the kind that made your throat numb, and he dug in the side pocket until he found them. He handed them to Justin and Justin tipped his head onto Lance’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”_

 _There was a lot of traffic and the ride back to the hotel took almost an hour, and eventually they began winding down. Even Chris started using his indoor voice, although he and JC and Joey kept up a running commentary on the kinds of cars the van passed, and the people on the sidewalks, and the different store fronts, Chris from the front seat and Joey and JC from all the way in the back._

 _Justin crashed hard, his head still on Lance’s shoulder. Lance watched him frown as he occasionally coughed in his sleep. Lance looked out the window at the passing buildings. They hardly ever got to see anything of the cities they were in, except maybe the airports, so it was nice to get a chance to just watch stuff for a little while._

 _Justin stirred and Lance peered down at him, studying his face. Justin opened his eyes and regarded Lance sleepily. Then he said, “You really were good tonight, you know?”_

 _Lance smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Justin.” It was quiet now in the van, and Lance raised his head to see Chris, turned around in the front seat, watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. Lance smiled at him, too, because he really had performed well tonight, and he felt pretty good about it._

 _Chris smiled back and nodded his head, then turned around in his seat to practice his German on the unfortunate driver._

 _Lance settled more comfortably against the seat back and let his arm steal around Justin’s waist._


	3. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **accident: a:** an unexpected happening causing loss or injury, **b :** something that happens unpredictably without discernible human intention or observable cause

After a month, Chris decides to have a party. He says it’s to celebrate the fact that they’ve managed to get through a whole month without bloodshed, but Justin prefers to think of it as a whole month where Lance hasn’t yet told him to go to hell. Justin keeps expecting it, and it’s making him a little jumpy.

It doesn’t help that Lance treats him like someone he’s only just been introduced to and has decided he doesn’t really like, based on his hair or his shoes, or something. He smiles, he responds to direct statements, but always looking at a point somewhere over Justin’s shoulder, never directly at Justin. When he’s around Lance, Justin feels like some mythological creature who’ll turn people to stone if they look straight into his eyes. It’s not a feeling he particularly enjoys.

This isn’t any easier for Justin than it is for Lance, but Justin doesn’t think Lance knows that. Everyone’s been very careful not to choose sides, not too obviously, anyway, but Justin thinks sometimes that makes it harder.

Every time Justin looks at Lance, he thinks, this time, surely this time Lance’ll look back.

And every time he’s wrong, because Lance is still one of the most stubborn people Justin’s ever met, and he clearly doesn’t _want_ to look at Justin. All this waiting is fucking with Justin’s nervous system.

Besides, there _has_ been bloodshed, if you count Joey cutting himself shaving his goatee off when he lost the bet with Chris, but that was self-inflicted, so Justin guesses it’s not what Chris means.

And it’s a lame bet, because in a week it’ll look like Joey never shaved at all. Chris is losing his edge. He’s not as ruthless as he used to be, which Justin admits is probably for the best if they’re really going to get this reunion thing off the ground.

They’re spending the afternoon in the studio again, going over what JC and Justin have written, songs they’ve both stockpiled over the past few years. Justin always knows when something he writes is for the group, even if he seldom starts out to do it intentionally. Those are the songs he puts aside, but never forgets about. It’s been hard, initially, bringing them to the group without Robin there to listen, too, and he knows they all feel the same. In a way, that loss brings them closer and makes it easier for JC and Justin to show the others what they have.

The others offer suggestions, and even though Justin has had the most experience these days, he listens, and so does JC. Chris, Joey and Lance know what NSYNC should sound like as well as he and JC do. Justin thinks things are going well, better than he expected maybe, but he wishes he didn’t feel so tense.

Justin loves some of the songs and arrangements he and JC have come up with, but some of them, he hates with a passion. He and JC know how to do this, this studio thing, they’ve been doing it for over half Justin’s life, but he thinks the other three are waiting uneasily for the fireworks to start. Justin can’t figure out what the big deal would be if he and JC were to have a huge, screaming fight in the studio. It would at least relieve some of the tension, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but he’s afraid they’d never see Lance again if they indulged themselves.

“J, c’mere, man, I think this works better in G, listen to this.” JC waves him over to the soundboard. Justin sighs. No, the song doesn’t work better in G, he likes it in F, which is why he wrote it that way. It suits Lance’s voice better in F, although he’s not planning on using that as an argument today.

Chris is watching them, and when he catches Justin’s eye, he smirks knowingly. Justin points at Lance and Joey, who are engrossed in conversation in the corner of the studio, and then jerks his head at the door. “Please?” he mouths at Chris.

Chris glances back and forth between Justin and JC, who looks deceptively innocent right about now, and stands up. “Bored,” he announces. “So very, very bored.” He peers at Lance and Joey. “I don’t know about you losers, but I’m starving. Let’s leave the Bobbsey Twins to it, shall we, and find some sustenance?”

“Sustenance? You’ve been watching too much _Survivor_ , Chris,” Joey says. “Come on, Lance, let’s go forage for food.” He hauls Lance out of his chair and pushes him toward the door. Lance goes with only a token “stop pushing me, Joey” and Justin smiles gratefully at Chris as he tosses a grin over his shoulder on the way out the door.

Justin turns to JC, who’s waiting for him with an anticipatory gleam in his eye. “I thought they’d never leave.”

“It does not work better in G, JC, and you know it.”

By the time they’ve settled things to Justin’s satisfaction, meaning that the song will stay in the key of F and also, that he’s gotten in several impressive insults about JC’s latest CD, in retaliation for JC telling him his sense of rhythm has always been just a little bit off, they’re both breathless with laughter and Justin feels much better.

Chris pokes his head back in the door. “Is it safe?”

Justin nods and JC starts giggling again. “We’re good, dude.”

Chris says, “Ok, party starts at 9,” and then he’s gone again.

Justin wraps JC up in his arms and leans his forehead gratefully on JC’s shoulder. “Thanks, dude.”  
JC tightens his grip and then lets him go, leaning back to smile at him. “Anytime, man. And, J.” He hesitates. “Everything’s gonna be all right, you’ll see.” Justin knows he doesn’t just mean the CD or the reunion tour that Justin is half eager for and half dreading.

Justin shakes his head. “No, it’s not, C, but thanks anyway.”

*

 _“It’ll be okay, Justin, just hang on.”_

 _Justin was pale with the effort not to move his arm, and Lance wished the traffic weren’t so bad. Once they got to the hospital, they could give Justin something for the pain, and then Lance would feel much better. He remembered when he broke his arm when he was seven, falling off his grandma’s porch, and he remembered how much it hurt while his dad drove to the hospital and his mom tried to keep his arm still on a pillow on her lap._

 _Lance frowned impatiently at the cars in front of them, and shifted slightly in his seat with annoyance. Justin’s arm, which was pillowed on a folded up jacket on Lance’s lap, shifted too, and Justin winced and hissed through his teeth. “Shit.”_

 _“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Lance said quickly, and he made himself sit very still again._

 _Fritz was in the front of the van with the driver, and he turned around to see how his charges were doing. “We’re almost there,” he informed them for what Lance was sure was the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. Lance nodded grimly and looked at Justin’s face again. If anything, it was paler than before, with a greenish tinge around his mouth that Lance didn’t like at all. Justin looked like he was going to hurl any minute._

 _Lance managed to hold still for the rest of the excruciatingly endless trip to the hospital. Lynn and Diane were already waiting for them in the Emergency Room, and Lance guessed the hotel was closer to the hospital than the concert venue was, or maybe there was less traffic or something. He wasn’t sure why Lynn and his mom hadn’t come to their show that afternoon, something about doing everyone’s laundry. Lance suspected they were as exhausted as everyone else was, and just needed a break._

 _Lance brought the make-shift pillow into the hospital with them in case they had to wait, but fortunately, the ER wasn’t very busy, and soon enough Lynn and Justin were being led away and Lance and his mom were sitting in the waiting area, while Fritz found someplace to park the van._

 _“He’s fine, sweetie,” Lance’s mom said reassuringly. “They’ll fix him right up.”_

 _Lance sat next to her, still holding onto his jacket. “I know. I just hope they give him something for the pain. It really hurts.”_

 _His mom smiled at him. “You remember when you broke your arm?” She glanced at the folded coat in his arms. “Yes, I guess you do.”_

 _Lance nodded. “I remembered the pillow helped me keep still, and it didn’t hurt so bad.” He peered worriedly down the corridor to where they’d taken Justin. “I wonder how long it’ll take?”_

 _It took forever as far as Lance was concerned, but finally Justin and Lynn came back out, Justin’s hand in a cast. He looked much better, no longer green, and he waved his cast at Lance._

 _“Look, I got a cast! You can sign it first,” he added, as if he were granting Lance a special favor. Lance grinned in relief. Justin was fine._

 _“Dork,” he said fondly._

 _Lance’s mom and Lynn rolled their eyes at each other, as if to say, “Boys!” It was an expression Lance saw on their faces a lot._

 _It was the middle of the evening when they got back to the hotel, almost nine o’clock. “Mom, I’m not a baby,” Justin insisted, when Lynn wanted Justin to go right to bed. “It’s not even that late, and I’m hungry. Besides, I’ve gotta show the guys my cast,” he said, bouncing with narcotic-induced euphoria._

 _Lynn fixed him with a Look. “You have one hour, Justin Randall. That’s it, and I mean it. I’ll get Fritz to find you boys some food.”_

 _“Cool. You’re the best mom ever,” Justin said as he dragged Lance down to Joey and Chris’s room with his uninjured hand._

 _JC looked worried, Joey looked curious, but Chris laughed at Justin when he opened the door and let them in. “You fell off the stage, man. How is that not funny?”_

 _Justin was indignant. “Just wait ‘til you fall down and break something, then we’ll see how funny you think it is.” But Lance could see him trying not to smile as they all gathered around and oohed and ahhed over his cast._

 _Fritz was of necessity skilled at foraging for food, and he arrived at their door in fifteen minutes with a stack of sandwiches from an all-night sandwich shop down the street from the hotel. Everyone fell on them ravenously, even Chris, JC and Joey. Lance assumed they’d had dinner, but they acted like they hadn’t eaten for a week. Lance made sure Chris didn’t grab the ham and cheese with the sweet mustard that Justin liked, and Justin smiled at him gratefully._

 _Half-hour later, Lance looked at Justin and decided it was time for him to go to bed. He was valiantly trying to keep up with Chris’s jokes and JC’s chatter, but he was fading fast. He was pale, and starting to get that greenish tinge around his mouth again._

 _“Justin, is it time for another pain pill?” Lance asked, which made JC pause in his story about the make-up girl and the poodle, and examine Justin closely._

 _“Dude, you look like shit,” JC said. “Go to bed.”_

 _“Yeah, I think I will,” Justin said, his voice shaky, and he got to his feet, wobbling a little. Lance reached out to steady him and Justin stumbled into him, clutching at his shoulder._

 _Ignoring the way Chris stared at the two of them, Lance herded Justin out the door. The hallway was deserted at this time of night, and Lance put his arm around Justin’s waist, guiding him to the room he shared with Lynn._

 _Justin sighed. “I’m so tired.” Lance nodded. Justin must be completely exhausted, because he almost never admitted that to anyone. He leaned his head on Lance’s shoulder as they walked._

 _“Come on, I bet your mom’s still awake.” They reached the door and Lance tapped on it quietly a couple of times. He heard Lynn moving around inside, but before she got to the door, Justin leaned forward and kissed Lance, right on the mouth. It was over almost before it started. Justin’s lips were warm and slightly chapped, and he tasted a little like Coke. He pulled back and smiled almost shyly as Lynn opened the door._

 _“Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”_

 _He slipped inside and Lance heard Lynn say, “Justin, sweetie, are you all right?” as the door closed, leaving Lance staring at it in bemusement. What just happened here?_

 _Okay, that was obvious. Justin kissed him. Lance reached up and touched his lips with his fingertips. Then he grinned. He hadn’t expected it, but he liked it._

~*

Chris’s house is lit up like a Christmas tree when Justin gets there. He makes his way through the front door, the music, all nine million decibels of it, hitting him like a physical force. He finds Chris in the basement, where it looks like every hot chick and hard-drinking guy Chris has met in the past six years has shown up. It looks like a MySpace roll call.

Justin’s always hated MySpace, but he’s here and Chris is his friend, and these are Chris’s friends, so hey, time to party.

Joey and Kelly are already here, and Kelly is dancing with Lance in the middle of Chris’s party room. Justin hides a grin as Lance swings his arms and bobs his head and tries to hump Kelly’s leg, while Kelly laughs and pushes him away. Justin just watches them, and Joey comes up behind him, wrapping one arm around Justin’s neck and shaking him gently. Justin tilts his head back against Joey’s shoulder for a moment. “Hey, Joey.”

“Hey, J. Good to see you,” Joey hollers in his ear over the music, like he hasn’t seen Justin in days.

“You just saw me a couple of hours ago, Joey,” Justin reminds him. “You miss me already?”

Joey laughs. “Quite a crowd Chris has here, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna get a drink.”

JC is at the bar, a Corona in one hand and a tall brunette in the other. Justin’s never seen her before, and he figures JC probably hasn’t either. Justin reaches behind the bar and snags a Miller Lite for himself. Chris always has the crappiest beer at his parties.

Two hours later, Justin has to pee. There’s been a lot of beer, music and laughter, and now he has to pee. The downstairs bathroom is occupied, so he goes upstairs to use the one next to the kitchen. The door’s partway open, and the light’s off, so Justin figures it’s empty.

He figures wrong.

Lance is in there with someone, someone he has pinned against the sink, someone he’s kissing. Lance has his back to the door, but Justin can see his face in the mirror over the sink. His eyes are closed and Justin sees a flash of tongue and hears an appreciative, “mmm.”

Justin doesn’t mean to let them know he’s there, but he’s already pushed the door the rest of the way open and flipped on the light switch. He freezes in the doorway, and although they’re very absorbed in what they’re doing, they’re not completely oblivious to the light suddenly coming on.

Lance reluctantly pulls away from the guy’s mouth, with a wet sound that echoes around the small powder room. His eyes are still closed, and he licks his lips and says, “Sorry, we’re busy,” and leans in for another kiss.

Justin doesn’t answer, he has no idea what to say. He also has no idea who the guy is. He actually looks like one of Chris’s friends, except he didn’t think Chris had any friends that would end up kissing Lance in the bathroom. Maybe it’s one of Lance’s old Orlando friends.

Lance finally opens his eyes and sees Justin in the mirror, and he goes perfectly still. The guy sandwiched between Lance and the sink takes one look at their faces and says, “Um.”

“Sorry,” Justin says with a start. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. The light was off and the door was…I didn’t mean to interrupt,” and he waves his hand nervously at the door.

Lance’s eyes haven’t left Justin’s face and he still hasn’t moved. He doesn’t say a word, and his expression is completely unreadable.

“I’ll just…” Justin gestures vaguely again and backs out the door.

“Lance?” the guy says uncertainly.

“It’s fine,” Justin hears Lance say as he walks away.

Well, at least he got Lance to look at him.

Chris doesn’t protest when Justin tells him he’s crashing in one of the guest rooms. He’s had too much to drink to drive, and had in fact planned on staying here tonight. “Great party, dude.”

“You know it, kid. I’m the greatest,” Chris yells in Justin’s ear as he gives him a tipsy one-armed goodnight hug.

Justin agrees with him and heads upstairs to the bedrooms. He doesn’t look at the bathroom next to the kitchen as he passes it, and he has no idea if there’s still anyone in there or not.


	4. Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Through:** used as a function word to **a** : indicate passage into and out of a process, **b:** indicate exposure to a specified set of conditions, **c:** indicate a period of time; from the beginning to the end of, **d:** indicate completion or exhaustion

Some bands spend years recording an album. Years. Lance has heard stories about legendary bands going into the studio and emerging a lifetime later with just a few workable tracks. He’s always wondered how that was possible, but it’s clearly happening here. NSYNC will never be finished making this CD.

It’s perfectly possible to take forever, he realizes, if you have two anal-retentive perfectionists who can’t agree on _one single little detail_ about anything at all, coupled with an indulgent record company willing to give them as much time as they need.

If this recording gig goes past six months, Lance’s is already planning on asking Joey to shoot him. Just shoot him and put him out of his misery. At least it would be quick. This, this is like dying by inches. Instead of The Death of 1000 Cuts, it’s The Death of 1000 Minor Decisions.

The worst part of it is, _they’re having fun._ Justin and JC are obviously having the time of their lives, thrilled to be doing this together again, so Lance doesn’t see an end in sight. There is absolutely no light at the end of this very long tunnel.

He’d probably be having fun too, if he weren’t so miserable.

Joey and Chris are having fun. As long as Joey’s singing, he’s happy. And this is what Chris has been waiting for these past six years, the chance to do this again.

If only it weren’t so much like being nibbled to death by ducks. Annoyingly cheerful ducks.

Since the night of Chris’s party, Lance and Justin have been tiptoeing around each other even more than they were before. Lance can’t outright refuse to interact with Justin, there’d be some kind of band intervention if he did that, but the tentative friendly overtures from Justin have stopped. Lance shrugs. Whatever. No one asked Justin to come barging into the bathroom that night. Who does that at a party? That has nothing to do with anything, anyway. He isn’t going to think about the expression on Justin’s face in the mirror. He doesn’t owe Justin anything.

Lance sits, flipping through a magazine, pretending not to watch JC and Justin laughing in the sound booth. Suddenly, Chris materializes beside him, flopping down in the corner of the couch Lance has claimed for himself during the endless hours in the studio.

“You’re an ass,” Chris says flatly, and Lance turns to stare at him. Chris doesn’t look at all happy. In fact, he looks prepared to do battle.

“What?” Lance is so not in the mood for Chris right now.

“You could at least stop acting like he’s invisible, like he’s not right here in the room. Or would that compromise your _injured party_ status too much?” Chris has his arms folded across his chest, and he’s glaring at Lance.

“Don’t act like you know anything about it, Chris. You have no right. You know _nothing_ about it,” Lance hisses, instantly furious.

“Oh, no? You think I wasn’t there for most of it? We were all there, Lance, we all lived through it, so don’t you fucking tell me I don’t know anything about it.” Chris is equally furious, and by this point he’s snarling in Lance’s face and poking his finger in Lance’s chest.

“Chris.” Justin’s voice startles them both into silence. Lance didn’t see him come out of the sound booth, and apparently, neither did Chris. “That’s enough,” he says quietly.

“I just think-” Chris starts, but Justin interrupts him.

“Don’t.” He holds Chris’s eyes, and whatever passes between them is enough to shut Chris up, at least for now. Lance knows it’s too much to hope it’s for good.

“Fine. I gotta take a leak.” And Chris is up and out of the room before anyone can say anything else.

Justin doesn’t look at Lance. “Sorry,” he says, then he goes back into the booth, where JC has been watching them curiously.

Lance pretends to go back to his magazine, but he’s shaking with anger, and he tosses the month-old copy of _Rolling Stone_ down on the couch so he can fume without any distractions. He checks his watch to see if it’s time for Joey to get back from picking Briahna up at school. It’s Joey’s _Daddy time_ , and Lance knows it’s important, but he wishes Joey would hurry.

When Joey finally gets back, Lance is a little calmer. Joey picks up on the changed atmosphere in the studio right away, and frowns in Justin’s direction. Lance feels a stab of guilt that Joey immediately assumes that whatever’s wrong is Justin’s fault. And that’s just silly, because of course it’s Justin’s fault.

But when Joey eases himself down on the couch next to Lance and quietly asks him what’s going on, Lance shakes his head. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” He promised himself he’d try, he promised them he could do this. He smiles wanly at Joey. “You’re all sweaty. Is it that hot outside?”

It must be, because Joe bitches non-stop about the Florida heat for at least ten minutes, letting Lance change the subject. That’s why Joey is the best best-friend ever.

Justin and JC are more subdued for the rest of the afternoon, keeping the laughter and the fun to a minimum, and for that, Lance does feel guilty. Chris started it, but Lance knows he’s not a ball of fun on the best days. Instead of staying until eight or nine o’clock the way they have been, at six JC tells Joey to go back home and have dinner with Kelly and Briahna, they’re calling it a night.

Chris and Justin leave together. Chris hasn’t said another word to Lance all afternoon. This happens, Lance tells himself. When they spend so much time together, especially crammed into a recording studio, this is bound to happen. They’ll get through it, they always have before, and some of it was under worse circumstances than this.

Some of it was while Lance and Justin were actually falling apart. Lance admits to himself that he and Justin put the others through hell on more than one occasion, and he guesses he can cut Chris some slack.

“Are you eating with us tonight, or do you have somewhere else to be?” Joey asks him.

“No, no where else. I’ll be there in a little while. I want to talk to C for a little bit.” He waves Joey out of the studio and turns to JC.

JC’s gathering up his things, stuffing papers and CDs and demos into his backpack. He doesn’t say a word, but Lance feels defensive anyway. “I’m trying, JC, I’m really trying.”

JC stops attempting to make his notebook fit in with all the rest of his stuff and peers seriously at Lance. “I know you are, honey. J knows it, too.”

Lance doesn’t want to talk about Justin. “Chris doesn’t.”

“He’s Chris,” JC shrugs, as if that explains everything. “He loves you, you know that.”

Lance sighs wearily. “Yeah, I know.” He’s known Chris since he was sixteen years old. Chris loves him.

“It’ll be okay, Lance. That’s what _I_ know.” JC smiles at him, squinty-eyed and reassuring, and Lance lets himself be comforted by it.

*

 _They went through Customs in Miami, as usual. With all the flying they’d been doing back and forth from Europe to Florida, Justin was becoming an old pro at airports. When they first started this, he worried about going through Customs. The little boy who still lurked inside him, the one who was afraid of breaking the rules, lived in fear of a Customs agent knowing that Justin had illegal contraband hidden in his suitcase just by looking at him. Of course, he_ didn’t _have any illegal contraband in his suitcase, or his backpack either, for that matter. He wasn’t even sure what would be illegal to bring back from Germany, aside from Cuban cigars. None of them smoked cigars, so he was able to resist the temptation to roll them up in his dirty underwear and try to smuggle them into the country._

 _He regarded Wesley suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. Now, it was possible that_ he _would bring Cuban cigars into the country, if Lou asked him to. Lou always had a cigar in his hand. Justin edged a little bit away from Wesley, trying to cover his movements by elbowing JC and pointing at a sign on the wall. He didn’t want to be standing next to Wesley if the Customs agents decided to search him or anything. What if they thought Justin had Cuban cigars stuck in his pockets, or something, just because he was traveling with Wesley?_

 _JC read the sign, which said_ Welcome to Miami _, and stared at Justin as if he’d lost his mind. Okay, right, he wasn’t afraid of Customs anymore, he remembered. Get a grip._

 _And now their flight to Orlando was delayed. They could have driven home in the amount of time they were going to have to sit here and wait for their plane, but the tickets were all paid for and Lou wouldn’t want the money to go to waste. Justin just wanted to sleep, because he slept kind of crappy on planes, even when his head was on Lance’s shoulder, but there really wasn’t a place here in the airport where he could get comfortable, and besides, it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. Sleeping now would screw him up for days. He’d just get straightened out when it was time to fly back to Europe next week._

 _At least they could eat, and they all headed straight for McDonald’s, the promise of an American McDonald’s adding a spring to Justin’s step. He didn’t care what anyone said, McDonald’s in Germany just didn’t taste the same._

 _The airport was busy, and the line for McDonald’s was pretty long. It took less than five minutes before Chris was poking JC again, and then running away when JC grabbed at him. By the third time Chris had almost crashed into someone who was innocently just trying to get to their gate, Joey had his video camera out. Maybe the tapes could be used as evidence in Chris’s trial when he was arrested for flattening an old lady wearing Mickey Mouse ears or a little kid trying to escape from their parents._

 _“I’m not letting you cut back in line if you don’t stay put,” JC finally announced. Lance looked back and forth between Chris and Justin and then moved in front of JC._

 _“I’ll let you in, Chris,” he said with a grin._

 _“Thanks, Lance.” And Chris poked JC in the side and ran fifteen feet up the terminal and back again, bounding up to Lance and throwing his arms around him. “Save me, Lance, save me!” JC ignored him, which Justin was sure JC knew was never a good idea._

 _By the time they got their food, JC had threatened to castrate Chris with a plastic straw if he didn’t knock it off, and Joey was able to get some great footage of Chris chewing his French fries with his mouth wide open._

 _Justin nudged Lance, and they took a couple of Quarter Pounders back to their moms, glad to escape the insanity, at least for the time it took the others to catch up with them._

 _Once Justin ate, his energy level seemed to skyrocket. There was nothing to do in this stupid airport, and he just wanted to get home, where they could swim or play basketball, or something, until it was time to go to bed. He elbowed Lance again._

 _“Dude, let’s take a walk.”_

 _“Don’t go too far, Justin, in case they call our flight early,” his mom said. She looked exhausted, and Justin smiled reassuringly at her._

 _“We won’t.” He bumped Lance with his shoulder. “Let’s go look at magazines.”_

 _They walked companionably around the terminal, stopping in the store that sold magazines and candy and newspapers and bandaids and Advil and Miami Heat baseball caps. Justin bought some M &Ms and a bottle of water. He had a system for keeping his American dollars separate from the different kinds of European money he’d collected over time, and he was happy to see he had more dollars with him than he’d thought. He added a bag of Skittles to his pile, and paid the cashier, relieved for a change that he didn’t have to stop and stare at his handful of coins like he was some kind of an idiot, trying to figure out how to pay for candy. Lance figured out German marks a lot faster than Justin had, and Justin was always trying to get him to pay for stuff. Justin handed Lance the bag of Skittles as they walked away from the counter and Lance took them with a grin._

 _They made another circuit of the terminal, then headed to the bathroom. Justin thought that bathrooms on planes were gross, so he decided to go before they had to board their flight. The bathroom was empty._

 _After he washed his hands, Justin backed Lance up against the sinks, and said, “You know, once we get home, it’s going to be crazy, dude, there’s not going to be time to do anything but practice and do that photo shoot Lou scheduled, and Robin has a couple of new songs for us to learn, and then we have to leave again.” He reached up and felt his hair. “And they want to do something to my hair again while we’re home.” He was tired just thinking about it all._

 _“What’s your point, Justin?” Lance asked, raising his eyebrows and laughing at him._

 _“I wanted to have, like, five minutes alone with you, that’s all. Quit laughing at me,” Justin pouted._

 _"I’m not laughing. And why do you need time alone with me?”_

 _“If you have to ask…” Justin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively._

 _“Someone could come in, Justin,” Lance pointed out, but he didn’t look like he was planning on going anywhere._

 _“Then I suggest we get on with it, man.” Justin leaned forward and pressed his lips against Lance’s, kissing him somewhat desperately. They didn’t get to do this very often, because they were never, ever alone, it seemed, and Justin wanted to do it a lot more than they could find the opportunity for. Lance was pretty ingenious when it came to finding a quick five minutes alone, but they mostly ended up kissing in bathrooms, one eye on the door and one ear on the sounds from outside the door. Justin thought that for the rest of his life, he would associate kissing Lance with brightly lit tile and the smell of disinfectant._

 _It had taken him a while to figure out that he even wanted to kiss Lance, but once he had, he pretty much never wanted to stop. That wasn’t possible, though, so he had to settle for stolen moments. He didn’t want anyone else to know what they were doing, not yet, especially since he hadn’t talked to his mom about his recent discovery that he liked boys as well as girls. Diane knew about Lance, of course, since Lance had known he was gay since he was still in diapers, practically._

 _Okay, so that wasn’t really a sexy image. Justin got his mind back on kissing Lance. He thought they were getting better at it. At first he didn’t have any idea how to kiss a guy, but kissing Lance wasn’t that different from kissing girls, and he’d had a lot of experience at that for someone his age, he thought._

 _Lance’s lips were soft and warm, and sticky from the Skittles and his tongue tasted like cherries as it slid into Justin’s mouth._

 _There were voices outside the door and Justin reluctantly pulled back. He watched Lance open his eyes and they were soft and unfocused, looking at Justin with such sweet lust that Justin couldn’t move. Then the door opened and Justin wrenched himself away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand._

 _“Get me a Snickers bar, Joey, okay?” JC called over his shoulder as he came into the bathroom. He stopped right inside the door, and stood there, regarding Lance and Justin with a small smile. He shook his head. “It’s almost time to board, and Lynn’s starting to wonder if you guys are ever coming back, dudes.”_

 _Justin nodded his head without saying a word, because he didn’t trust his voice right now. Lance calmly raised an eyebrow and said, “Sure, we’re coming.” He put his hand on Justin’s shoulder and pushed gently. “Come on, Justin, let’s go.”_

 _“It’s fine, don’t panic. It’s just JC,” Lance murmured as they walked back down the terminal to the gate._

 _“I know, I’m cool,” Justin said. He was. His heart rate settled back down to normal, and there was a bounce in his step as they approach the gate. Kissing Lance and then almost getting caught was kind of exhilarating._

 _Chris saw them coming and headed towards them at a gallop. “Lance, Lance,” he hollered, turning heads up and down the concourse. He reached them and threw himself onto Lance’s back. “Carry me, Lance. I need a ride. I’m tired, Lance.”_

 _Justin laughed as Lance hauled Chris to the gate on his back. Chris pretended to bite Lance’s ear, and Lance dumped him on his ass right in front of their moms. Lynn smiled tolerantly at their antics, but Diane looked like she was pretty much at the end of her rope. Lance sat down, and dragged Chris into the seat next to him. “Sit, just for a few minutes.” Chris did, leaning his head on Lance’s shoulder and batting his eyes at him._

 _“My hero,” he sighed, and Lance shoved him away, laughing helplessly._

 _Justin sat in the row of seats across from them, and soon Joey and JC came back to join him. It was almost time to board their flight, and thank God for that. Justin felt the exhaustion creep back as he sat there, waiting. Lance looked up from whatever evil plan he and Chris were hatching and caught Justin’s eye. He smiled, slow and enticing, and Justin could have sworn the flash of heat that arced through the space between them was visible to everyone around._


	5. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **school: a:** an organization that provides instruction, an institution for the teaching of children **b:** the process of learning **c:** to teach a specific knowledge or skill

_Now that Lance was eighteen, his mom stayed home in Mississippi when the group traveled to Europe. That meant that normally, Lance and Joey were roommates, Chris and JC stayed together, and Justin was stuck with his mom. Not that he didn’t love her dearly, but Lance knew he wished he could have a different roommate once in a while. Like, for instance, Lance._

 _In truth, they were in and out of each others’ rooms so much it was sometimes hard to tell whose was whose, but once the doors closed and the lights went out, well, Lance adored Joey, but he wasn’t in love with him, and he sure as hell didn’t want to have sex with him._

 _He wanted to have sex with Justin._

 _But that was easier said than done, unless they announced that they were dating and demanded to be allowed to room together. Lance couldn’t see that happening anytime soon. He was willing, at least to tell his mom and the rest of the guys, but Justin wasn’t ready._

 _Lance wasn’t ever going to tell Justin this, but he had already talked to his mom. She wasn’t blind or stupid, and she wasn’t even surprised. She was a little worried about Justin, though._

 _“He’s so young, Lance. He’s only sixteen. He could change his mind, and then he’d be mad at you, or say that you took advantage of him. And now that you’re eighteen…” she trailed off, a worried frown between her eyes._

 _“I don’t think he will, mom.” Lance shrugged. “He could change his mind, sure, but I don’t think he’ll hate my guts or anything.”_

 _Diane smiled. “I just don’t want either one of you to get hurt, honey.”_

 _And now she was gone, and if the other guys knew, they could at least angle for a little privacy once in a while, try to figure out a way to be roommates, with one less mom to account for. But even though Lance knew perfectly well that Lynn wasn’t going to disown Justin or anything like that if she found out he was bi, and he knew that Justin knew it, too, Justin was still nervous. Lance got that. It seemed like his parents had always know he was gay, or had at least not been all that surprised when he was twelve years old and he told them he liked Bobby Williams better than Bobby's sister Janice, but it wasn’t the easiest thing he’d ever done. He was perfectly fine with giving Justin all the time he needed._

 _So, for now, they had to take advantage of any opportunity they could, and settle for stolen kisses and quick gropes whenever no one was looking._

 _Tonight, however, Lynn was meeting with Johnny to discuss next month’s schedule, and Joey had a date. Lance didn’t think JC and Chris would miss them for an hour or two after dinner, and he had big plans._

 _Plans that involved stripping Justin naked and seeing what happened. He thought Justin might like that._

 _He was right. Justin liked it a lot. He was, in fact, very appreciative._

 _“Wait, Justin,” Lance panted. “Hold up a minute.” He reached out to push gently at Justin’s shoulder._

 _“Why? What is it? Am I doing it wrong?” Justin looked up at Lance with guileless blue eyes, and Lance almost lost it right then, in spite of the teeth marks that he was sure were encircling his dick._

 _“Just-um, just watch your teeth, okay?” He certainly didn’t want to discourage Justin, but blow jobs were a new skill, and although Justin usually picked up new skills very quickly, Lance really didn’t want to sacrifice his dick for the cause._

 _“Sorry.” Justin swiped his tongue apologetically up the underside of Lance’s cock, then swirled it around the head a couple of times, making Lance grit his teeth in an effort not to just push Justin onto his back and fuck his mouth. Lance had better manners than that. Justin pulled back, looking up at Lance again, and now his eyes were dancing with delight. “Tastes good.” He smiled slowly at Lance. “Teach me? Tell me how to do it right, the way you like it?” He lowered his eyelashes seductively. “Schooool me.”_

 _Lance stopped breathing for a minute. “Jesus Christ, Justin. Are you trying to kill me?”_

 _Justin laughed. “No, man, I’m not. Just, come on, you know, I’m new at this.”_

 _“Okay. Just use your tongue, that’s it, and lick around, and suck a little bit, and keep your teeth out of the way, really. That’s the most important part. God, that’s it. Just like that. Keep doing that. That, with your tongue, that’s it. God, don’t stop.” Lance thought he might be babbling._

 _Justin laughed around Lance’s cock, and the vibrations went straight to Lance’s spine. It was incredibly hot, having Justin suck his cock while Lance told him how to do it, gave him instructions for heaven’s sake, told him what he liked, what felt good. Justin was a fast learner. Lance already knew that, but this new proof made him very happy._

 _Happy enough that he was coming before he really wanted to, but damn, Justin’s mouth was amazing. Justin had a little bit of trouble with the swallowing part, but Lance wasn’t complaining. Not at all._

 _Justin pulled himself up and flopped down on the pillow next to Lance, who was struggling to catch his breath. “I was born to give head, baby,” he gloated, sounding smug. Lance guessed he had a right to._

 _“You had a great teacher,” Lance managed between gasps._

 _“You bet your ass I did,” Justin said. He yawned. “I wish I could just stay here tonight.” He sounded wistful, almost vulnerable. Lance turned his head on the pillow and looked at him. He looked very young all of a sudden._

 _“Me, too.” Lance looked at the clock on the night stand. Nine o’clock. Joey wouldn’t be back for a couple more hours. “Set the alarm for ten, and we can sleep for an hour.”_

 _“Okay.” Justin reached for the clock. “If Joey comes back before then, um, I guess it’d be okay,” he said, his voice so quiet Lance almost didn’t hear him._

 _Lance wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist and pulled him back against his chest. “I know. But he won’t.” He chuckled, thinking of Joey’s face if he came back from his date to find Lance and Justin cuddling naked in bed. “I can think of better ways for him to find out, Justin.”_

 _“I know.” Justin sighed, and Lance tightened his hold. “Maybe we could tell them sometime.”_

 _“Maybe we could.”_

*

They’re actually starting to record in earnest now. They’ve narrowed things down to about twenty-five songs, at least to start with. Today they’re working on a song that JC wrote, kind of a power ballad that reminds Lance of one of the songs on _Schizophrenic_ , the one with the daffodils. Lance has already laid down most of his vocals, and he’s bored. He’s not sure why he’s still here, but Joey frowns at him if he leaves the studio early, like he’s not _trying_. Lance remembers this, remembers being bored in the studio when it isn’t his turn, but back before Justin became Mr. Super Producer, Lance at least had someone to fool around with when they weren’t recording their parts.

Fool around with in more ways than one, Lance thinks, and no, he’s not going there. He’s not about to sit here and reminisce about the good old days of furtive blowjobs in the bathroom, or quick handjobs in the broom closet, or wherever. He knows he’s romanticizing it in his mind, it didn’t happen all that often, and he spent as much time with Joey during their downtime as Justin did with Chris, but still.

Lance sighs and pushes the bittersweet memories aside. He looks up to see Justin watching him. Justin tries a tentative smile, and for a minute Lance is positive Justin knows exactly what Lance was sitting here thinking about. He almost smiles back.

Things aren’t getting any easier between the two of them as time goes by. Lance had hoped they would, although he really doesn’t see how they’re going to. It hurts too much, even after all these years. For the millionth time, he tells himself that it’s not too late to back out, to walk away. He always thought that if he ever got to sing again it would make him happy. This, this is not making him happy.

JC stops playback and motions to Joey to take his headphones off. They huddle together, talking in whispers, while Justin fiddles with the song sheets. Joey nods, then heads in Lance’s direction.

“Hey, Lance. JC wants me to finish up this part and it’s time to pick Bri up at school, and I can’t call Kel.” Kelly’s out in LA for a few days, meeting with a potential client for _Roses-N-Lollypops_. Lance envies her fiercely.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go get her.” Lance is on his feet, grateful for the excuse to bail.

“Take Justin with you,” JC says.

“What?” Lance says blankly.

“What?” Justin stares at JC.

“You heard me. Joe and I have work to do, man. Neither one of you needs to be here right now. Go pick up Briahna. By the time you get back, Joey’ll be done.” JC’s using his implacable voice, and Joey looks almost grimly determined. Chris isn’t here right now, and Lance wonders if they planned this for when he was out of the way, or if it was a spur of the moment thing.

Justin shrugs and nods, without looking at Lance. Lance wants to put up more a of fight, but he can’t keep saying he’s trying if he really isn’t. “Fine.” Maybe he and Justin can use the car ride to talk about the weather.

But there’s not much to talk about. It’s hot and sunny, with towering grey and white cumulus clouds, just like every afternoon in Orlando when it isn’t actually raining. Lance concentrates on his driving with the same focus Justin gives to staring out the window at the insane mid-afternoon traffic.

And Lance thinks of JC and Joey’s resolute faces, and he doesn’t know whether to be mad or to laugh at them. They must really be fed up with the two of them, and he can hardly blame them, really. He sneaks a peek at Justin out of the corner of his eye, and sees his lips twitch. He relaxes a little and huffs out a quiet laugh. Justin smiles.

“Those two,” Lance says. He’s pleased that his voice sounds perfectly normal.

“I know.” They don’t say anything else, but the tension level is ratcheted way down. It’s nice for a change, Lance has to admit.

When they pull up in front of Briahna’s school, she heads straight for Lance’s car, like she’s expecting to see it instead of Joey’s. So this whole throwing Lance and Justin together thing was premeditated. And they have to be civil to each other because they’re with Briahna, and they can’t just sit in silence during the car ride back to the studio, because Briahna doesn’t do silence. Lance has to hand it to JC and Joey. They know what they’re doing.

“Hi!” Briahna says brightly as she hops in the back seat. Joey must have primed her well, because normally Bri is a shot-gun kind of kid, viewing the back seat as unworthy for someone with as many important things to say as she has.

“Hey, sweetie,” Justin says, turning around in his seat to talk to her.

“Is your seatbelt on?” Briahna asks him severely, and he nods solemnly.

“Mine, too, honey,” Lance says, and he pulls on it to show her.

“Okay. We can go now,” she pronounces, and Lance pulls away from the curb obediently.

Briahna beguiles the drive back to the studio with non-stop chatter, and by the time they arrive, Lance and Justin are laughing and relaxed. In fact, it’s the most relaxed Lance has been in Justin’s presence since this whole misbegotten reunion thing started.

He’s still thinking about kicking Joey’s ass, though. They go into the studio, and JC and Joey are sitting around, listening idly to the playback, chatting like they don’t have a care in the world. Briahna throws herself at Joey, and he smiles over her head at Lance, looking very much like the cat who swallowed the canary. JC, too, appears extremely self-satisfied.

Lance smiles at Justin and allows them their victory.

*

 _This whole starting over thing was a lot of work. Most of the time, Justin was totally determined. They had done it in Europe, and there was no reason they couldn’t do it here in the States. They had a plan, and it was a good plan, and he knew it would work. He had faith, faith in Lou, faith in himself, and most of all, faith in the guys._

 _But sometimes, it all caught up with him, and Justin’s brain stopped and his body protested, and he just had to catch his breath._

 _“Come on, Justin, I’ll help you.” Justin was so tired he almost didn’t hear Lance talking to him. As it was, he completely missed whatever it was he said._

 _“Huh?” Justin raised his head from the kitchen table, where he’d been attempting to do his math homework by osmosis. He’d tried everything else he could think of to get his brain to absorb the Pythagorean Theorem, it couldn’t hurt to see if sleeping with his head on top of the open textbook would work. The late afternoon sun slanted in through the window, making him squint._

 _Lance smiled at him, reaching out to trace a gentle finger down Justin’s cheek. “You’ve got crease marks from your book.”_

 _Justin blinked sleepily up at Lance. Where had he come from? “I thought you guys were going to…um, the mall?” Maybe? Somewhere, Justin knew they were all going somewhere._

 _Lance laughed at him. “Yeah, Justin, the mall. But I don’t need shoes, only JC and Joey do, and Chris wanted to stop at that record store and see if they got any new vinyl in.” He shrugged. “So I decided to stay here. Good thing I did. You want some help with that?”_

 _Justin nodded. “God, this is so boring,” he moaned. He was used to fitting school into the hours between working, he’d been doing it since he was eleven, but math defeated him every time. Not because he didn’t get it, really, but because it was so very boring, and his mind drifted, and then their long hours and non-stop pace caught up with him and the next thing he knew, he was asleep. He looked at Lance doubtfully. “Do you remember this shit, man?”_

 _“Justin, I just graduated last year. I think I can still remember some geometry.” He peered over Justin’s shoulder. “Is that what you’re doing, geometry?”_

 _“Yeah,” Justin said. “I just-who the fuck was Pythagorwhatever anyway, and why did he get to make up math theories?”_

 _Lance laughed. “Pythagoras. He was-I don’t know, some Greek guy, or maybe he was Roman, but whatever, he knew a lot of stuff about math. Let me see.” He pulled out the chair next to Justin and sat down. Justin shoved his math book towards him with a sigh._

 _Lance frowned at Justin’s homework. Ha. Maybe he didn’t remember as much as he claimed he did. What kind of person remembered this stuff for more than a day after they graduated? Justin knew Lance was a dork, but he hadn’t known he was this big of a geek._

 _“Look, this is a right triangle. You know the length of these two sides, okay? And they want you to find the length of the long side, here, the hypotenuse. So, you use the Pythagorean theorum.”_

 _“Which is?” Justin snarled irritably. Why couldn’t Lance just tell him? He was too tired for this._

 _“A squared plus b squared equals c squared,” Lance intoned, like that was supposed to mean something to Justin._

 _“Come on, Lance.” Justin knew he was whining, but he couldn’t help it._

 _Lance was a patient guy though, Justin had to admit. He just pointed and said, “Look, this is side a. It’s four inches long. This is side b. It’s three inches long. They want you to figure out how long side c is.” He waited._

 _“And?” Really, how was he supposed to do that?_

 _“Justin, come on. What’s four squared?”_

 _“Sixteen.” Okay, that he knew._

 _“What’s three squared?”_

 _“Nine.” This was simple, really._

 _“Add them together.”_

 _“Twenty-five.” Okay, now he got it._

 _“And what’s the square root of twenty-five?” So maybe Lance wasn’t as patient as he wanted to pretend, if his tone of voice was any indication._

 _“Five.” Justin hid a smile behind his hand._

 _“So how long is side c?” Lance sighed._

 _“Five inches.” Justin blinked innocently at Lance._

 _“Jesus, that was like pulling teeth, Justin.”_

 _Justin snickered and Lance narrowed his eyes at him._

 _“Fine, now do this one.”_

 _“But,” Justin frowned at the page. “They already have the length of side c here. Side a? How am I supposed to do that?”_

 _“It’s an equation, Justin. Square b and c, then solve for a. Really. Subtract b from c, then find the square root of that, and that’s a.” The less patient Lance got, the less clear his explanations were._

 _“But why? Why do I care?”_

 _“You care because I swear to God, Justin, if you don’t stop whining and get this done-“ Lance stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the deal. If you get this done before the others get back, I’ll blow you.”_

 _Justin brightened considerably. “Okay! It’s a deal.”_

 _Lance grinned at him. “You know Chris takes forever at that store, but we don’t want to take any chances. I’d better stay here and help you finish.”_

 _Justin agreed with that plan whole-heartedly._

 _It was amazing how easy the Pythagorean theorem could be with the right kind of motivation._


	6. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Disclosure:**_ the act or an instance of disclosing; exposure; revelation

“Justin, honey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Justin shrugged. “Yeah, sure- ” He stopped and eyed his mother suspiciously. “What about?” Her tone of voice was far too nonchalant, like she was trying to trick him into a serious conversation. But he was on to her, knew her too well to fall for that, and he cast a quick glance around, looking for backup.

The hotel corridor was empty, though, which he guessed made sense, since everyone else was already in his or her rooms for the night. There weren’t even any bodyguards out in the hallway. Justin spared a quick thought for Lance, rooming with Joey again, while Justin was stuck with his mom, and sighed. Maybe, just maybe, if he told her he and Lance were boyfriends now, she would let them share a room once in a while. Lance was old enough that his mom wasn’t traveling with them anymore, so maybe…he sighed. Fat chance. Maybe pigs would fly.

Besides, Justin didn’t know if he was ready to tell his mom yet. It’s not that he didn’t trust her. He was just nervous. You never knew with his mom.

Lynn slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door to the small room they shared. She motioned Justin in ahead of her, and after locking the door, she tossed her purse on her bed and said, “Sit down, sweetie.” She settled down in the middle of her bed, sitting Indian-style and smiling sweetly at him, her eyes determined.

Justin’s blood ran cold. He sighed and sat down on the opposite bed facing her and waited, clenched fists resting on his knees. He was in for a major interrogation, he just knew it.

“So, how’s Lance doing without his momma here? He doing okay, not too homesick or anything?” Lynn asked brightly. She tucked her hair behind her ear and waited expectantly for Justin’s answer.

Oh, crap. Justin had no idea why he’d thought he could keep this from his mom, why he thought she wouldn’t notice anything funny going on with him and Lance. He shrugged again, studying his knees. There was a hole starting near the inside seam of his jeans. Damn, these were his favorite pair. “He’s fine, I guess,” he said, shrugging once again.

“Don’t you shrug at me, Justin Randall,” Lynn said sharply.

“Sorry, he mumbled. He didn’t see what the big deal was about shrugging.

“Justin, honey,” Lynn’s voice softened. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Justin raised his head to stare at her. No, there wasn’t anything he _wanted_ to tell her, but it looked as if she wasn’t going to give him any choice. He sighed. Lance would be happy about it, anyway. “I think I’m bi. You know,” he added, blushing furiously. “I think I like boys, too, not just girls.” He waited nervously for her reaction, poking his finger into the hole in his jeans, trying to make it bigger.

“You think? Don’t you know for sure, baby?” There was a crease of worry between her eyes. “Did Lance- ”

Justin hastily cleared his throat. “No! I mean, yes, I know for sure. I like guys. Um, Lance. I mean, one guy, anyway.” And now he thought he might die of embarrassment, but he couldn’t have his mom thinking Lance had _done_ something to him, or anything.

Lynn nodded. “Okay. I kind of figured you two were…”  
She stopped, not finishing her sentence, thank God. “I’m not blind, sweetie. And neither is anyone else,” she added.

“Crap.” Justin threw himself backwards on his bed, covering his face with his arm. He knew no one was blind. He knew Chris especially was watching him and Lance, waiting. Probably waiting for Justin to tell his best friend what was going on. He’d just been hoping to avoid ever having to deal with it. He had the feeling Chris disapproved for some reason Justin couldn’t figure out.

His mom said, “You should talk to the others, honey. You and Lance. They deserve to know. They’re your friends, it’ll be just fine,” she finished firmly, forestalling Justin’s plea that Chris might kill him. There had been a lot of glaring coming from Chris’s direction lately whenever Justin and Lance did anything together.

“I guess,” he said from under his arm. He pulled his pillow over his face and pressed down. Maybe he could smother himself before he had to tell anyone else that he and Lance were together. Then he remembered what he’d been thinking about before. He quickly sat up and said hopefully, “Hey, Mom? Now that you know, do you think me and Lance could share a room once in a while?” He flashed his most engaging smile at her.

Lynn regarded him steadily for a moment, and Justin felt himself blush again, his smile fading. Finally, she spoke. “Justin, you’re sixteen years old. I’m not stupid, I know what things go on, but you know I can’t do that.” She shook her head. “Besides, I don’t think Joey would be all that thrilled to be my new roommate, do you?” She smiled.

“I guess not,” Justin said, seeing his chances of uninterrupted sex with Lance fading before his eyes.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, baby. Thank you for telling me.”

Like he’d had a choice. Justin rolled his eyes, but only a little so she didn’t see. “I love you, too, Mom.”

*

“So, um, I talked to my mom last night,” Justin said to Lance after breakfast the next morning. They were waiting for the elevator to take them back up to their rooms so they could get their jackets. They had a radio interview at 10 o’clock. Justin just hoped someone at the station spoke halfway decent English this time. Chris was the only one whose German skills could get him through a conversation, and depending on Chris to navigate them all through any kind of encounter was pretty scary.

“Justin, you talk to your mom all the time, you share a room with her, she’s your _mom_ , you tell her everything, including what you eat at every meal- ” Lance’s eyes widened and he abruptly stopped talking when Justin elbowed him in the side. “You mean, you _talked to her_ talked to her? Really? Finally? How did it go?”

Justin smiled. “It went fine. She’s my mom.”

Lance smirked at him. “I told you- ”

“Don’t say _I told you so_ , dude. I know you told me, I just needed to do it in my own time,” Justin said with an attempt at maintaining some dignity.

“She asked you about it first, didn’t she?” Lance laughed. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

“Shut up,” Justin said as he shoved Lance into the elevator.

Chris and JC were trying to get out of the elevator at the same time and Lance’s momentum bounced them right back in. “Watch it, Bass,” Chris snarled, then he stopped and looked from Justin’s face to Lance’s and his frown deepened. “What’s so funny? It’s the ass crack of dawn, nothing is funny this early in the morning.”

“Chris, it’s 8 o’clock, not exactly the ass crack,” JC sighed, pushing Chris out the door before it could slide shut on his foot. “Let’s get you some coffee for the road.”

As the elevator rose to their floor, Justin and Lance stared at the lit-up numbers as they changed, each waiting for the other to speak first. Finally, Lance sighed. “We’re gonna have to tell them, Justin.”

“I know.”

*

Chris sat on Lance’s bed, his arms folded across his chest. JC sat next to him, nibbling on his fingernails and looking worried. Joey leaned against the wall next to the door, frowning at Justin. Well, as close to frowning as Joey ever got, more like the sort of expression that would look like polite interest on most other people.

Justin cleared his throat nervously. He and Lance were seated on Joey’s bed, close but not close enough to touch. He could feel the warmth of Lance’s thigh next to his own anyway, and it gave him courage. These were their friends.

Lance swallowed, then said in a voice that Justin hoped sounded more confident to the others than it did to him, “Justin and I have something to tell y’all.”

“No shit,” muttered Chris, and JC poked him in the side.

“Shhh, let them talk,” he said. Chris batted his hand away, but he shut up.

“We’re, um together, I mean, like, you know a couple,” Lance said, and the tips of his ears were pink.

“We’re in love,” Justin blurted out, then wanted to sink into the floor at the expression on Chris’s face.

JC wrapped one arm around Chris’s neck, pulling him close, and covered his mouth with his other hand, but Chris’s hysterical laughter still came through loud and clear. “I think that’s nice, J,” JC said over the noise.

Justin looked up at Joey, because there wasn’t anything he could do with Chris and JC at the moment besides ignore them. Joey was looking at Lance almost possessively and when he turned to look at Justin his eyes narrowed. He watched them for a moment, then his face cleared and he smiled widely.

“Just don’t have sex anywhere I can see it and it’ll be fine,” he said, and Justin relaxed. Joey was just worried that Lance might get hurt. Justin could understand that, Lance was Joey’s best friend.

“Right, because I’ve never had to listen to you with a girl in the next bed, Joe,” Lance said, relief in his voice.

“Ew,” Chris said, still snorting giggles into JC’s shoulder. He straightened up then, sobering up pretty damn quickly, looking seriously at Lance and Justin. “I’m gonna be blunt here. I don’t like it, even if you are _in love_. Shut up, Justin,” he said, as Justin started to protest. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. If you guys crash and burn, the rest of us, the _group_ ,” he emphasized, “are screwed.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Chris,” Justin said positively. He covered Lance’s knee with his hand and they bumped shoulders. Joey watched them, his face carefully blank but with something dark in his eyes that made Justin uneasy again.

“You don’t know that,” Chris argued. He looked like he wanted to say more, but JC shook his head.

“Leave them be, Chris. Give them a chance. You can’t stop them, or change how they feel, man.” He smiled happily across at Lance and Justin. “Congratulations, dudes.” He got to his feet, pulling Chris up with him. “Come on, Joe. I have a new bottle of German wine I’ve been wanting to try.”

“ _Wine_ , C? What the hell?” Joey laughed and pushed away from the wall, making to follow Chris and JC.

As the door closed behind the three of them, Justin could hear Chris say, “You mark my words, JC…” and then the sound of their voices faded down the corridor.

“Well, that went well,” Lance said dryly.

Justin sighed. “They’ll get used to it. Besides,” he added indignantly, “We’re not going to crash and burn. Even if -” he stopped himself from saying it. “Well, you know, if we – it’ll be fine. We’d never let anything effect the group.”

Lance nodded. “Of course not.” He leaned forward and kissed Justin, slow and deep. When he pulled back, Justin had forgotten all about skeptical and annoying bandmates. Lance smiled at him and said, “I’ll bet Joey won’t come back here for a while. And besides, even if he does, it’s his turn to pretend to be asleep."

Justin stared at him in horror. “I’m with Chris on that one man. _Ew_.”


	7. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fall: a:** to drop down wounded or dead, **b:** to drop oneself to a lower position, **c:** to pass suddenly and passively into a state of body or mind or a new state or condition, **d:** autumn

_Justin didn’t see it happen. He had his back turned, laughing at something Chris said, and he didn’t see it when Lance collapsed after the concert._

 _He heard it, though. He heard the dull thud as Lance hit the floor, and he heard JC’s shocked gasp and Joey’s “oh, shit!”_

 _He spun around to see what happened, and Lance was lying flat-out on the ground, his face as white as his shirt, his eyelids fluttering erratically. Justin stared in confusion as Lance lay there, motionless._

 _No one moved for a good ten seconds. Then all hell broke loose._

 _Chris yelled at one of the PAs to get the venue paramedics, and the startled girl immediately took off running. Johnny whipped out his cell phone at the same time that JC yelled, “Call 911!” Joey dropped to the floor next to Lance and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him and calling his name._

 _Justin caught it all in disconnected fragments. Lance was unconscious on the floor. That didn’t make any sense. It was outside Justin’s realm of experience, and so he didn’t know what he should do. No one had ever just fallen down, passed out, whatever, right in front of him before. Certainly Lance never had._

 _“Lance. Lance, come on, man, wake up. Lance!” Joey’s voice was sharp with fear, and it made the hair stand up on Justin’s neck. He’d never heard that note in Joey’s voice before, and he didn’t like it. It galvanized him into action._

 _“Joey. Joey, move. Move!” Justin fell to his knees, shouldering Joey out of the way and reaching for Lance’s hands. He had to make sure he was still warm, that the paleness of his face didn’t mean anything. But Lance’s hands were cold, and Justin rubbed one of them desperately between his own. “Lance,” he said, the sound not really making it past the panic tightening his chest, threatening to overwhelm him._

 _“Hey!” Joey shoved him back, and for a minute they scuffled right there on the floor, practically fighting over Lance’s body._

 _Furiously, Justin pushed Joey away again. “Fuck off, Joe! Get out of the way!”_

 _Joey started to push back, and then JC was there. “Joe, come on, give Justin some room,” he said, his hand on Joey’s arm._

 _Joey began to protest, then he got a good look at Justin’s face, and moved back out of the way, glaring. Justin forgot about him completely as Lance’s eyelids fluttered again and he gave a weak cough. He opened his eyes and croaked out, “Justin?”_

 _“Right here, man.” Justin had to clear his throat. “I’m right here.”_

 _Lance clutched Justin’s hand. “Sorry. Just got dizzy for a minute. Let me up.”_

 _“I don’t think so, man.” JC sounded a lot calmer than he had when he was hollering for someone to call 911. Justin figured Lance regaining consciousness had something to do with that. “Wait for the paramedics.”_

 _Lance got even paler, if that was possible. “Paramedics? JC, I’m fine. Just help me up.” He struggled to a sitting position, using Justin for leverage. He closed his eyes and muttered, “shit,” leaning his forehead on Justin’s shoulder._

 _“Hold still, Bass,” Chris said, in his_ don’t give me any shit _voice, and Lance sagged against Justin, who had to hold on to him to keep him from sliding back down to the floor._

 _The production assistant finally came back, followed by a tall, skinny paramedic who didn’t look much older than Justin. The kid seemed nervous, but he dropped his bag and squatted down next to Lance, looking closely at him and asking him quietly how he felt, and making him lie back down again. That helped some. Lance looked a little less pale when all his blood wasn’t rushing away from his head. The paramedic looked up at everyone standing around, watching him anxiously for whatever pronouncement he was about to make._

 _“We need to get him out of the heat.”_

 _Oh. They could do that._

 _“And he needs to go to the hospital.” He put up his hands to forestall any objections. “He’s dehydrated and he needs fluids. You don’t have any IV setups backstage, do you? No, so he has to go to the hospital,” he repeated firmly. “There’s already an ambulance here, the one that’s always here.” He nodded his head toward the VIP parking lot._

 _“Justin, no. I’m fine, just get me some water,” Lance whispered frantically._

 _Justin shook his head. “You’ll just puke it back up again. I saw you, Lance, before. You haven’t kept anything down all day.” It was true. They’d all seen how sick he was, but Lance said he could perform, and he had._

 _Johnny decided against using the ambulance, much to Lance’s obvious relief. “We have enough vehicles here at the venue,” he said. “And we’re not rushing anybody off to the hospital in an ambulance. We need to keep a low profile.”_

 _The paramedic looked doubtful for a minute, then shrugged and said, “Okay, I guess that’ll be all right. But don’t waste a lot of time.” Justin kind of wished he’d put up more of a fight. He didn’t think they should waste a lot of time, either._

 _Justin ended up in the back seat of a van with Lance’s head in his lap. Joey wanted to ride along, too, but Johnny said no, they didn’t all need to go to the hospital. He didn’t really seem to want Justin to go, either, but Justin ignored him and hopped into the van, turning around and reaching out to help Lance climb in._

 _Johnny sat up front with the driver, and one of their security guys sat in the back with Justin and Lance, watching them, and Justin tried not to let the guy see how scared he was. Lance lay pale and still, his eyes closed, and Justin carefully placed his hand on his waist, making it look like he was trying to keep Lance from rolling off the seat whenever the driver took the corners too fast, instead of like he was holding on tight to his very sick boyfriend to keep himself from freaking out. Justin glanced down and saw a few tears slip down Lance’s cheeks, and once, he thought he heard a sniff. He tightened his grip, and although he wanted to bring his other hand up to stroke Lance’s hair, he didn’t._

 _“Justin, I think I’m gonna puke again,” Lance whispered, and Justin helped him sit up a little, reaching for one of the towels Joey had thrust into the van just before they pulled away. Lance’s poor stomach was empty, but he heaved helplessly a few times, then slumped back against Justin. “Dizzy,” he complained._

 _The bodyguard, a new one that Justin didn’t know very well, turned around to murmur something to Johnny, probably telling him that Lance was going to barf all over the car if they didn’t hurry up and get to the hospital, and Justin dropped a quick kiss on the top of Lance’s head before the guy turned back. “Soon, man, we’ll be there soon.”_

 _Lance sniffled again. “Tired,” he said._

 _“I know.” Lance was still too pale, and his skin was hot and dry. Probably too dehydrated to sweat, Justin thought._

 _Johnny must have called the hospital, because when they arrived, a guy wearing scrubs immediately came out to the van with a wheelchair. Between them, they managed to get Lance out of the van and into the wheelchair without dropping him on his head, and they headed for the ER entrance. They bypassed the waiting room and then Justin and Johnny were being turned around and pointed in the direction of a private waiting area. “We’ll call you if we need you,” a nurse reassured them._

 _Johnny was on the phone again, this time to Lance’s parents in Mississippi. He assured them that they didn’t need to catch a plane to Florida just yet, and told them he’d call them when he knew exactly what the deal was. Justin could hear the fear in Diane’s disembodied voice all the way across the room._

 _Justin should call the guys, Chris, or maybe JC, but his cell phone was in his backpack, which he left in the van. Just as it occurred to him, the driver stuck his head around the corner, obviously looking for them, and he came in and handed Justin his backpack. “Thought you might need this, man.”_

 _“Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.” He couldn’t decide who to call. He thought maybe JC would be best. As he opened his phone, he saw he had at least five voicemails, one from Chris, one from JC, and three from Joey. Justin hit JC’s number._

 _JC bombarded him with questions. “J, man, hey! What’s going on? How is he? What are they doing to him? Is he all right?”_

 _“I don’t know, dude. They haven’t said much yet. C! JC! Shut up and let me talk.” JC shut up. “He’s still with the doctor, and, you know, they haven’t told us anything. He was still pretty wiped in the van, like, dizzy and stuff.”_

 _“You know he’s been throwing up practically nonstop since yesterday,” JC told him, like that was some kind of news flash._

 _“Yes, JC, I do know that.” Justin was the one who’d sat with Lance half the night while he threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach. He was the one who was there while Lance tried to get something to stay down, anything, water, Coke, tea. Nothing did._

 _Even Rosie had noticed that Lance was sick when they’d taped her show that morning. Johnny knew, they all knew. It’s not like this should really come as a big surprise to anyone who’d been paying attention. Which Justin had been, they’d just been so busy, and it was easy to get caught up in things, and maybe he hadn’t been paying enough attention. It’s not like Lance had been complaining or anything._

 _“Okay, man, call us when you know some - hey, Joe, watch it! What’re you do -?”_

 _There was a scuffling noise, then Joey said into Justin’s ear, “What’s going on, Justin?” He sounded scared, and not at all like Joey._

 _“I don’t know, they haven’t told us anything yet,” Justin said again._

 _“Well, go see what they’re doing,” Joey demanded._

 _“I’m not gonna go barging back there, man. He was okay in the van, not much different from how he’s been all day, you know?”_

 _“Yeah, J, I know how he’s been all day. We should have done something about it.” Joey was angry, but Justin didn’t know who he was angry at._

 _“I know. But you know Lance. He just kept saying he was fine.” And Justin believed him, because that was always what Lance said, and he always was fine._

 _“You should have known better,” Joey said, and that hurt. “Call when you hear,” and he hung up._

 _Justin rubbed tiredly at the frown between his eyes. They were all exhausted, they’d been performing almost every night for three months, and he wasn’t going to let Joey get to him._

 _Next to him, Johnny closed his phone as a short, dark-haired middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat approached them. “Hello, I’m Dr. Mendez,” she said pleasantly, holding out her hand. “Mr. Bass is going to be fine. Let’s sit down.”_

 _“As I’m sure you’re aware,” she began, and Justin couldn’t tell if there was censure in her voice or not, “Lance has had a stomach virus, and has gotten himself into quite a state. He’s extremely dehydrated, and his electrolytes have been thrown all out of whack. Electrolytes are very important, cardiac-wise. Electrolyte imbalance can cause heart irregularities, and that’s what’s happened here.”_

 _At the words "heart irregularities", Justin jumped to his feet, the panic he’d been holding at bay making an appearance, shooting adrenaline through his body, making his mouth go dry. “What do you mean? Is he okay? What-” He stopped and breathed. He didn’t even know what questions to ask._

 _“Justin,” Johnny started, but Dr. Mendez smiled reassuringly at them and Justin felt the panic recede a little._

 _“He’s all right now. But this afternoon, his heart was beating very irregularly, and that’s why he collapsed. When we get him hydrated again, and get some electrolytes replaced, he’ll be fine.” She frowned at Johnny. “But you can’t let this happen again. You have to be more careful.”_

Johnny nodded. “I know.”

 _“Can I see him?” Justin blurted out, interrupting Dr. Mendez and Johnny’s discussion of what to tell Lance’s parents._

 _Dr. Mendez studied his face, then nodded. “I suppose it can’t hurt. He’s worried, maybe you can make him feel better. Just go down that way to the right, behind the first curtain.”_

 _Justin smiled his thanks and made his way back to where Lance was partitioned behind an ugly salmon-colored curtain. “Dude.”_

 _Lance was looking much better. He had some color, and his eyes weren’t quite as dull. There was an IV in his left hand. He smiled wanly at Justin. “Hey, Justin.”_

 _“You look better, man. Like, really better.” Justin moved to the bed, and took Lance’s hand. It was warm now, and Lance held on tight._

 _“I don’t know why-I mean, sorry, I just-”_

 _“Lance, it’s cool. It’s not your fault, you know. We’ve just been running so hard, man.” Justin looked around for a chair._

 _“I know, I guess.” Lance sighed, and then yawned. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, since he’d spent half the night in the bathroom._

 _Justin let go of Lance’s hand long enough to drag the plastic chair in the corner over to the bed. Before he sat down, he looked hastily at the gap in the curtains and then kissed Lance on the mouth, fast and hard. He took his hand again, and then said, “Everything’s cool. Johnny’s calling your mom, and we’ll take care of the concerts. Just, you know, rest and stuff.”_

 _Lance smiled gratefully at him and closed his eyes. Justin settled back in his chair, keeping watch over Lance as he fell asleep._

*

Justin’s forgotten that having little kids around makes Halloween a big deal, until he thinks about Jonathan and Stephen, excitedly showing him their costumes one year when he was able to be home in October, insisting on dressing up hours too early for Trick or Treat so he could see how cool their Storm Trooper costumes were.

So Joey wanting to take a break for a couple of days over Halloween makes sense. These days they have that luxury, something they didn’t have the last time around.

Justin thinks he’s going to head up to Tennessee for a few days. Lance seems surprised at that, and Justin figures Lance expected him to go to LA. Lance doesn’t get that for Justin, LA is just for business now. It doesn’t have anything to do with _home_ anymore. That’s because Lance refuses to notice anything about Justin.

Justin, however, notices quite a few things about Lance, and he doesn’t need Chris to tell him that Lance is going to Vegas for the weekend.

It turns out Jonathan and Stephen are having a Halloween party, and Justin hasn’t seen his father and Lisa in a while, so he hangs out there, watching the boys with their friends, being with his family. It’s not something he gets to do very often. He has a good time and he’s glad he came.

The next morning when he gets up, his mother says, “I talked to Cameron last week.”

Justin sighs. His mom has a habit of getting way too attached to the people he dates. She’s loved all of his serious girlfriends. And boyfriend, he thinks. Can’t forget the boyfriend. “How is she?”

“She seems to be fine. She’s starting work on a movie next month. They’re filming it in, um, Toronto.” She doesn’t look at him as she says that, and he thinks she’s sorry she brought it up.

It’s not like it matters anymore, either Cam or Toronto.

“That’s good,” he says. “I’m glad she’s fine.” He is. He wishes her well.

His mom fixes him breakfast, because he likes to eat breakfast as his first meal of the day, even if it is almost noon, and his mom wants him to be happy. She puts a plate of eggs and grits in front of him and says, “So. How’s the recording going?”

There are a dozen unspoken questions hidden in that single query, and Justin considers ignoring them all. But he doesn’t. He does, however, start with something easy.

“It’s good. C and I wrote some good songs, and we’ve all worked really hard to find the ones that we like and that work the best for our sound, for all of our voic-” he trails off at her _cut the crap_ expression.

He tries again. “It’s good to be back, working together again. It’s great. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. Them.” His mom lets him get away with that, because it’s important, it means something that he’s glad they’re doing this. He chews his eggs and takes a sip of coffee and waits.

She doesn’t disappoint him. “How’re things with Lance, honey?” Her words are caring and gentle, but the steel in her voice allows him no wiggle room.

So he tells her. “They suck. He won’t talk to me unless he has to, he can barely stay in the same room with me, and he won’t look at me at all.” Justin doesn’t tell her about walking in on Lance and that guy in Chris’s bathroom, and he doesn’t mention that he thinks Lance is fucking his way through half the gay population of both Orlando and Vegas. Some things his mother doesn’t need to know. “Some days I think it’s getting better, but that’s only when JC makes us talk to each other.”

She hmms thoughtfully. “Well, baby, I guess we expected it, didn’t we? I mean, that it wouldn’t be easy. That things might be hard for a while.”

Justin guesses they did expect it. But hard isn’t the word for Lance. The word for Lance these days is _impossible_.

His mom lets him finish his breakfast in peace, and drops a kiss on the top of his head when she clears his plate off the table.


	8. Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Below: a:** lower in place, rank, or value, **b:** underneath

Lance doesn’t run away to Vegas this time. This time he goes to LA. He still thinks of LA as home, still has a house there, although he’s been looking around half-heartedly for another one. He just needs to settle on a new realtor. The last one worked out pretty well for quite a while, at least until it all went to hell in a flurry of unpleasant publicity and salacious tabloid stories that had his mother calling him every night. Lance thinks this time around he’ll look for a female realtor.

He’s having an okay time, and he actually takes a couple of meetings while he’s out here, at least the ones he can get scheduled on such short notice. It’s not like he can just call people and announce he’s in town and they’ll drop everything to see him. Not anymore, and not like Justin can. He pushes that thought aside. It’s not Justin’s fault, if he’s honest with himself, that’s just the way things are.

And anyway, Wendy’s been keeping up with things out here, and the things that need his personal attention he’s been taking care of over the phone.

“Lance, seriously, David and I met last week. There’s not a lot of activity on that project right now.” Wendy sounds apologetic, which Lance appreciates, but the lack of activity on any project that involves Lance on his own isn’t something he talks about with Wendy.

So Lance has some free time for a few days, and that feels strange already, even after just a couple of months of being busy again. He’s amazed at how quickly he fell back into the rhythm of recording, and it feels good, in spite of everything. On some level he’s happy to be there. If only it didn’t take so much energy to deal with all the other levels.

He calls a few friends and arranges to meet them at a club, but his heart’s not really in it until he sees the guy standing at the end of the bar. He’s about Lance’s height, dark hair, eagerly scanning the crowd. Lance watches as the guy considers and dismisses a half a dozen prospects in one sweep of the room. Once his eyes light on Lance, though, it’s obvious he recognizes him, and equally obviously, that’s what piques his interest. He smiles and tilts his head inquiringly. Lance recognizes the type. He’s actually very much Lance’s type. Lance isn’t really that fond of his type, but the only time in his life Lance didn’t stick to his type was Justin, and that’s a mistake he won’t make again.

Lance raises an eyebrow and sends a friendly smile in the direction of the guy at the bar. No sense playing hard to get. It’s not like he has to try to make a good first impression. Lance is still well-known enough for his fame to be sufficient to the cause.

He’s also famous enough that he can wait for the guy to come to him. He does, carrying two drinks, one of which he hands to Lance with another smile, seeming very pleased with himself. Lance takes the drink, raises it in a salute, and downs it, never losing eye contact.

“Lance,” he says, putting the drink down on a nearby table and holding out his hand.

“Jason,” the guy says, shaking Lance’s hand. “You ready to get out of here?”

That’s a little more of a direct approach than Lance is accustomed to, but it’s also something he’s beginning to expect. There’s no need to feel him out or to be circumspect anymore. And truth be told, that’s mostly a relief.

“Sure thing,” Lance replies with a shrug and a smile.

Jason has a car, so while they wait for the valet to bring it around, Lance texts his friends to let them know he’s leaving. Jason drives and Lance stares idly out the window as the lights of West Hollywood go by. There’s not much to talk about, even though Jason wants to tell Lance all about his attempts to break into acting. Lance pretends to listen. He’s not interested in Jason’s career in the least. He’s only interested in getting laid.

All in all, it’s not a bad three days, and he goes back to Orlando feeling almost refreshed. He’s kind of sorry he missed seeing Briahna in her Halloween costume, but he’s mostly glad to have had the time away.

*

 _“In here.” Justin pushed Lance in front of him into a small room about halfway down the corridor from the enclave of dressing rooms and ready rooms backstage. Justin had no idea what the room was used for, and he really didn’t care. He just knew it was isolated and had a lock on the door. They were already dressed for the show and they had ten minutes, tops, and Justin planned on using every one of those ten minutes. The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, just a table and a few chairs shoved against the far wall._

 _“Justin?” Lance turned to speak, but before he could, Justin pushed him against the wall, kissing him hard._

 _“What-” Lance started, and then he seemed to forget that he had anything to say as he kissed Justin back, licking at his mouth, pulling at his lower lip with his teeth._

 _Justin was so turned on he could hardly talk. “Come on, come on,” he panted, shifting Lance’s shirt out of the way, moving his hands up under it. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”_

 _He ground his hips against Lance, and Lance was hard already, ready for him. It was so hot, with everyone just down the hallway, with Britney just down the hallway._

 _Lance fumbled with Justin’s track pants, yanking them down just enough to get his hand inside. Justin closed his eyes and whimpered as Lance took hold of his cock. “Oh, fuck,” Justin choked out. He’d been watching Lance all day, watching him move, watching the way he laughed and joked with Britney at lunch, touching her, his hand on her arm. He wanted to feel that hand on himself, right where it was now, pulling and stroking, Lance’s thumb rubbing over the head of his dick._

 _They never had a fucking minute to themselves, the bus was impossible, hotels almost worse, except late at night after everyone had settled down. Joey seemed to think every night was a party, and Justin just wanted some time alone to touch Lance._

 _Lance dropped to his knees, and oh fuck, fuck. He nuzzled Justin’s stomach, dipping his tongue in Justin’s navel and Justin gasped, half-laughing at the sensation. Lance licked a path to Justin’s hip and bit down, his teeth sharp, and he sucked hard, right below Justin’s hip bone, and Justin knew he was leaving a mark._

 _His mouth was hot as he moved to Justin’s cock and he swallowed Justin down, no teasing at all. Lance worked him, sucking and licking and swirling his tongue around, until Justin didn’t think his knees were going to hold him up any longer. He was sure he was about to come, then Lance stopped, pulled off and shook his head. He stood up, grinning at Justin._

 _Justin grinned back, grabbing Lance and kissing him, not stopping as he used both hands to untie his pants and yank them down. Their cocks lined up hard and hot against each other, and Justin let out an involuntary moan. Lance whispered into his mouth, impossibly filthy things that made Justin want to bend him over the table and fuck him right there, only they couldn’t do that, not before a show. He managed to hold on to enough sanity to remember that._

 _He moved them to the table anyway, pressing Lance down on his back. Lance shifted, and then he was spread out on the table, swearing up at Justin. Justin leaned over him, holding his wrists, pinning his arms to the table. Lance strained up at him, “Fuck you, Justin, come on,” he said shakily, arching his hips up. Justin ground down against him, and it only seemed to take a minute, they were both coming, and Justin practically saw stars he came so hard._

 _Justin slowly straightened up, trying to catch his breath. Lance sprawled beneath him, looking used and open and hopelessly debauched. Justin imagined him on stage like this, pants down, fingers twisted in his shirt, mouth open, eyes closed. God. Justin shook his head. They had to go._

 _He grabbed Lance’s hand and hauled him to his feet. They busied themselves cleaning up with the handful of tissues Justin stashed in his pocket earlier. He looked at Lance critically. They were so dead if they got caught, but Lance’s hair and makeup weren’t messed up too badly. He felt his own hair. Still crunchy with product. They were good to go._

 _Justin listened at the door for a minute, then slowly opened it, peering out into the corridor. The coast was clear, not a soul in sight. He nodded to Lance and they slipped out, easing the door closed behind them. Lance had that flush across his cheekbones that he got when he came, and Justin grinned at him happily. He felt loose and relaxed, but with enough energy that he thought maybe he could take on the whole world, and not just an arena full of screaming girls. He knew, feeling like he did, that when they hit the stage, the adrenaline rush, on top of the sex rush, would be something truly amazing._

 _Britney was backstage, getting ready to go on for her set, and she smiled excitedly at Justin and Lance as they came up to her, each of them kissing her on opposite cheeks. “Go get ‘em, girl,” Justin said._

 _“I will. You boys have fun, too, y’hear?” She threw a smile over her shoulder at them both as she headed toward the stage._

 _They others were ready to do a hackey, and Justin tried not to notice that Chris was looking at him and Lance quizzically._

 _Later, when Justin kicked off his track pants in the quick-change area for the costume change between_ For the Girl Who Has Everything _and_ That Thing You Do, _Chris looked over at him, laughing like a loon at something funny he’d just said to one of their dressers. He paused, then pointed at Justin’s stomach and said in what he apparently thought was a whisper, “What the fuck is that?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what I think it is, Timberlake?”_

 _Justin looked around to see that the dresser was occupied with JC right then, then he looked down at himself, to where Chris was pointing, right below his waistline, in the hollow of his right hip, to the livid bite mark that Lance had put there._

 _“Did Brit do that?” Chris asked as he pulled on his shirt and tie. His eyes were bright with curiosity, and something else. Something almost mocking._

 _“I-uh-” Justin straightened up as he grabbed his next costume off the rack without waiting for the dresser to finish fixing whatever the fuck was wrong with JC’s costume and come help him, and glared at Chris. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” He thought about it while he quickly zipped up his pants. Chris was perfectly capable of asking Britney about it, maybe teasing her, even if he didn’t think she did it. Especially if he didn’t think she did it. “No. No, it wasn’t Brit.”_

 _“Ah, the credit goes to Lance, then,” Chris chuckled, tying his shoes. Justin looked sharply over at him while he shoved his arms into his jacket. Chris fluttered his eyelashes at him, and Justin knew that Chris knew perfectly well that Britney had nothing to do with the hickey on his belly._

 _“Shut up,” Justin said._

 _“I’m not saying a word, J. Not a word.” And Chris laughed at him all the way back out onstage._

*

Orlando usually has pretty gorgeous weather in November, well, when there aren’t any hurricanes, the intolerable heat of July and August just a memory, and the uncertainty of the winter months still ahead. But their first day back in the studio after Halloween makes Justin reconsider Lance’s preference for doing this in LA. It’s hot and humid here, with the threat of thunderstorms making Justin’s head hurt. The air conditioning in the studio is laboring ineffectively, and Justin’s shirt sticks to his back, making him irritable.

He’s not the only one. Chris is snapping at people for no reason and Joey finally tells him to either knock it off or go the fuck home. JC frowns at them both, annoyed at the distraction. He’s busy tweaking the bridge of the song they all call “the one about the girl,” because it really is the only song they’ve recorded so far that’s about a girl. It’s actually about a girl who may or may not be able to transform into a tiger at night. Justin thinks maybe JC’s read too much Harry Potter, but it’s not really a bad song, and it has a kick-ass bridge, not to mention a killer hook.

The thought of having sex with all those claws and teeth makes Justin extremely nervous. He can see where it would appeal to JC, though.

Lance, now, Lance is in a good mood.

He’s fucking humming to himself and laughing at Joey and encouraging JC, and he’s even trying to cheer Chris up. He whispers something in Chris’s ear, and Chris looks over at JC with a startled laugh.

“No, really? You heard that? This weekend? Ha, that’s great.” He shakes his head and laughs again. “You rock, Chasez.” It’s the first time in a long time that Justin has seen Chris just relax and talk to Lance without the almost hostile impatience that’s usually in his eyes when he looks at him.

JC has known them both for entirely too many years to fall for that old trick, and he just smirks and ignores them, but they all relax a bit. Lance says he’s going after drinks, and what does everyone want. Joey goes with him to the small kitchen at the back of the building, and they come back with bottles of water and juice.

Justin tilts his head back to take a long drink, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Lance rub the back of his neck, twisting his head from side to side to work out the kinks. He’s sweaty, and he pulls the front of his shirt out away from his chest for just a moment to fan himself with it, and Justin can see, right below his collarbone, a dark red bruise. He lowers his bottle of water and stares, and then Lance lets go of his shirt and it drops back into place. Justin quickly turns away before Lance catches him looking.

But Chris notices. Chris always notices shit like that. Justin used to make the mistake of thinking that Chris was so busy being hyper that he didn’t have any idea of what anyone else was up to, but he always notices the details. Not a lot gets past him, it never has. That’s what makes him so dangerous when he wants to be, because he doesn’t hesitate to use what he sees.

Don’t say anything, Justin pleads silently. He wonders if Chris has enough kindness left in him to keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t dare look at him. Entreating glances never work with Chris, that’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

No wonder Lance is relaxed. Justin adds LA to the list of cities where Lance seems to regularly hook up. Justin doesn’t think it’s making him particularly happy, though. Not in the long run. At least he hopes it isn’t. That’s not what Justin wants at all, for Lance to be happy with the way things are.

Chris actually shows some sensitivity for once, and lets it go with just a sympathetic smirk at Justin. Justin nods his thanks, relief making him dizzy. If there’s one thing he and Lance don’t need, it’s Chris stirring things up again. Chris knows how Justin feels, he’s always known, but he can’t seem to let well enough, or even bad enough, alone. He never has. It’s been the one part of Justin’s life where Chris has been less than his friend, and he hasn’t always understood it, but he accepted it a long time ago. He really didn’t have much of a choice.

When JC has the bridge of the song finished to his satisfaction, they call it a day. Lance actually includes Justin in his good-bye smile, and Justin waves back at him, before watching him walk out with Joey. JC is still puttering around, gathering up his stuff, and Chris clears his throat.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Chris.” Please don’t make me talk about it, Justin thinks.

“I’m not saying a word, J.” Chris is such a liar. But he actually sounds kind, almost gentle. “He doesn’t seem to be cutting back any. Do you really think-”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ are you having trouble with, Chris?” Justin’s pissed, but his voice sounds more plaintive than mad.

It’s a note that JC will pick up on every time, from long years of exposure. “What’s up, J? Chris?” He looks between them, wary of playing referee, something also born of years and years of experience.

“Nothing,” Justin starts, but Chris talks over him.

“Lance is a busy boy,” he says. Justin wants to smack him.

“Oh,” JC says. He doesn’t say anything else, for which Justin is exceedingly grateful.

“I think-” Chris starts, but JC interrupts him.

“It doesn’t really matter what you think, man. Leave them alone. They’ll have a better chance of working things out if you do,” he says calmly.

And that’s something they should all know from experience, and in fact, Chris does mostly shut up at JC’s words, except to say, "Look, Justin. On the list of things I give a shit about, who Lance is fucking ranks right below who Brit has watching her kids these days. I'm just saying."

“Well, don't. Now, asshole, do you want to go get something to eat, or not?” There’s a clear warning in Justin’s tone, and Chris is smart enough to heed it. He shrugs, letting it drop, at least for now.

“Sure, but you’re buying.”


	9. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Beginnings: a:** a rudimentary stage or early period,  
>  just starting out **b:** to bring into being **c:** to take the first step in a course, process, or operation.

“I told you it was a bad idea ten years ago, Justin. Nothing that’s happened since then has changed my mind any. You really want to start things up again, dude?” Chris is itching for a fight, Justin can tell. He tries for an honest, reasonable discussion anyway.

“I don’t know! Yes. I think. And it wasn’t a bad idea ten years ago.” It wasn’t, and it still rankles that Chris has always thought it was.

“Right. Because look how well it turned out. For all of us.” Chris glares and waves a French fry at Justin.

“That’s not fair, Chris.” It’s so much more complicated than that.

“I told you it could fuck things up, and it did.” That’s an old refrain, one Justin’s heard a million times. Chris jabs his French fry angrily into one of the half dozen little white paper containers of ketchup that are lined up in front of him.

Exasperated, Justin shoves his plate away. “Bullshit. That’s not the only reason-” he starts.

“It’s one of the reasons it took us so long to do this again,” Chris interrupts. There’s no arguing with that, because Chris has his ideas, and they’re fixed in his head and there’s no changing them. Justin tries anyway, because that’s what he does.

“That’s not how it is.” His voice is calm, although he doesn’t feel very calm. Most of the time, Chris stays away from this, mostly out of love, Justin thinks, and he appreciates it. But sometimes he brings it up, and then they rehash basically the same conversation they’ve been having for over ten years. Ever since Chris first figured out that there was more to Lance helping Justin with his math homework than an aptitude for algebra.

“Oh, yeah? Remind me to skip the meeting when we talk about the buses for this tour.” Chris shoves his plate away too, and leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

Justin hasn’t thought that far ahead. He hasn’t thought about buses, and who’s riding with who. Unless they each want their own bus, he imagines it’ll be like before, Joey and Lance on one bus and Justin on the other with JC and Chris. There were reasons they did it that way before, but some of those reasons no longer exist, at least not to the extent they used to. Lance, at least, isn’t hiding anymore. Justin likes to think he isn’t, either, although that resolve has yet to be put to a practical test.

Now there are new reasons to keep Lance and Justin away from each other, and Justin hates that.

Chris lets out a frustrated sigh and leans forward again. “I thought you were done with this, kiddo.” He peers seriously at Justin. “I thought you’d moved on.” He looks down at the napkin he’s got wadded up in his hand. “Even if Lance hasn’t.”

Justin feels that same spark of hope he experiences every time it’s brought to his attention that Lance hasn’t moved on, not at all. He despises himself for how much he’s come to depend on Lance’s obvious unhappiness for his own sense of optimism. But it’s what made him start hoping again. Hoping, and trying to think what to do about it.

Justin shrugs. “There’s dealing with things realistically, accepting things as they are, and then there’s really and truly moving on.” He stares earnestly at Chris. “There’s a difference, man.”

“I gotta be honest with you, Justin. I don’t know if I can watch you two tear each other apart like that again. If that’s what’s gonna go down here, if this tour’s gonna be a repeat of the last one…” Chris looks away, off into the distance. After a moment in which neither one of them says a word, Chris shakes his head. “I’m not the only one who can’t do that again, J.”

Justin blinks away the sudden hot sting of regret burning in his eyes. “What, you think I can?” he asks fiercely. He swallows hard and manages to compose himself. After a pause, during which Chris stays blessedly quiet and doesn’t look at him, Justin says, “Maybe it’ll be a new start. Maybe we can…” he trails off. He’s not ready to say any of this out loud, not even to Chris. Maybe especially not to Chris.

“Yeah, and maybe pigs ‘ll fly,” Chris mutters, but he lets it drop and they finish their lunch in silence, then head to the Compound for a preliminary meeting about mounting a new NSYNC tour.

*

 _There was a buzzing in Lance’s ears, sort of fast and rhythmic, and he thought maybe it was his heartbeat or something, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t really hear anything over it. His hands shook and he felt around, searching until he found Justin’s hand, and held on, down low on the seat between them, where no one could see. Joey was breathing too fast, his face pale, and JC was shaking so hard his hair was trembling. Chris’s lips were moving, like he was muttering to himself. Lance closed his eyes and waited._

 _Adam had reviewed the different possible outcomes with them about a million times and Lance was positive he knew what they all meant, but when the judge said she was denying the injunction, he had to look over at Justin to make sure that it was a good thing._

 _It was. Justin grinned from ear to ear, his eyes dancing, and it was all Lance could do not to lean in and kiss him right on the mouth, right in the middle of the courtroom. Joey slumped back in his seat, and now it looked like he wasn’t breathing at all. JC’s eyes all but disappeared into his smile as he shook Adam’s hand, and Chris let out a “whoop” that made them all laugh. Lance was weak with relief, and he couldn’t make his legs work well enough to get him on his feet._

 _“Oh, my God, Justin,” Lance breathed, and Justin beamed happily at him, and then Lance felt himself being lifted to his feet as pandemonium broke out all around him. There was a surge of parents, and he caught a glimpse of Lou’s face, dark and angry. Too bad. Lance didn’t have to care about Lou anymore. They were free._

 _Now that the injunction had been denied, they were all slated to gather in a room with the lawyers and work out an agreement that meant they were free of Lou, free to stay with Jive, free to keep their name._

 _The lawyers for both sides arranged to break for an hour before they reconvened in front of the magistrate to hammer out the details of the settlement. Lance, Justin, Chris, Joey and JC had already sat down with Adam and their parents and decided what they wanted, what they were going to ask for, and what they would settle for. Lance paid close attention to how it was done this time, not missing a trick. They had all learned a great deal, and that was one thing Lance knew he should thank Lou for._

 _He probably wasn’t going to be doing that anytime soon, though. No one who had spent any time around Justin in the past three months would be tempted to feel grateful to Lou for anything, Lance thought. He would never forgive Lou for putting that sad, betrayed expression in Justin’s eyes._

 _JC was hungry, naturally, and Joey said he could eat, too. Lance was surprised to find his own appetite, which had been missing in action lately, was back with a vengeance. Justin and Chris nodded in agreement._

 _“We can eat afterwards, honey,” Lynn suggested, looking at her watch. “We can go out and celebrate.” Justin shook his head. While the rest of them all thought that sounded like a good idea, Justin was obviously determined to have things his way, right this minute, like he was declaring his independence to the world, or at least to his mom._

 _“No, I’m hungry now. Seriously? Maybe Big Mike could go get something for us, sandwiches, you know, or something.” He almost sounded demanding, and Lance looked at him in surprise. Justin didn’t usually demand. He was polite, he cajoled, he could send people scurrying to do what he wanted with just a smile and some Southern charm. He rarely demanded. Lynn and Chris frowned almost simultaneously._

 _But Lance understood. They’d spent the past four years doing what they were told, and going in whatever direction they were pointed, having very little control over much of anything in their lives, from their schedules, their clothes, and their music, to their girlfriends and their favorite colors. Justin was reacting to that, reacting to the loosening of the reins, and he wanted something to eat_ now _, and he didn’t think that was really too much to ask. Lance looked at the faces surrounding him, the faces of his best friends. Joey and JC were smiling at Justin, and Chris had lost his frown. None of them thought it was too much to ask._

 _And Lance saw when Lynn got it, too, and her face softened, and she said with amused appreciation, “Okay, baby, let’s find you some food.”_

 _Justin laughed then, and although Lance knew things weren’t going to change completely, the sound made him glad. They had a new record contract, and though they still had to record, and do promo, and they had an image and a fan base to satisfy, still, Lance felt like a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders when he listened to Justin laugh, standing in the corridor of the courthouse where they found a new beginning._

*

The sense of déjà vu is almost more than Lance wants to deal with. Sprawled on couches somewhere deep in the Compound, discussing tour dates and venues and preliminary set-lists, and it’s just all too weird.

Besides, it’s way too premature to be doing this, Lance thinks. They haven’t finished recording the album yet, and how can they possibly start planning a tour without knowing how well the album is going to sell and what kind of venue they can fill? The whole thing is so fraught with the possibilities of embarrassment and hurt feelings and comparisons best not made in polite company that sometimes Lance wonders what they were all smoking when they agreed to do this. What makes any of them think that this isn’t the worst idea in the history of the world?

“We don’t know what size venue we’re looking at yet, right?” he asks. No one else seems willing to voice this stuff out loud, but Lance is already the group’s designated buzz-kill, so he might as well live up to everyone’s expectations. It’s all he says, just a few quiet words, but they all know what he means.

“Way to be positive, Lance,” Joey says gruffly, and JC frowns over at him from his position on the opposite couch, scrunched between Justin and Chris.

“Lance has a point, man.” JC’s done both large and small venues in his solo career, and if anyone knows about the vagaries of timing and the fickleness of fortune, fate, and record companies, it’s JC. When his second CD was finally released, it surprised everyone except JC by doing very well. That time around, he toured with Christina and they filled arenas during the spring and summer of 2007.

“I think we can at least assume arenas, yeah?” Johnny says calmly. Lance knows approximately ten clever sayings about people who make assumptions, all of them a play on the word ass, but he shrugs and lets it go. JC shrugs, too, but now Lance knows he’s not the only one second-guessing things a bit.

They decide to hold off on discussing a specific start date. Lance knows Jive was hoping for a Christmas release for the CD, but that’s not going to happen, and once again, he wonders what everyone is smoking, and where he can get some. It must be some good shit, because it makes people actually think things like maybe NSYNC can manage to record an entire album in five months. Only very powerful hallucinogens could make anyone think that.

So, a spring release is the most probable scenario, with a tour in the summer and fall of 2009. Lance ruthlessly squashes down the flutter of excitement he feels at the idea of touring again. It’s been so long, and although their last tour didn’t end under the best of circumstances, (and isn’t that the understatement of the century), there’s a part of him that’s missed this terribly. That’s the part of him that agreed to do it once more, because he wants so badly to belong to something again.

They start to talk about set-lists, but quickly realize they need to finish this album before they can come anywhere close to making any decisions. “And I don’t even wanna know how we all feel about including the solo stuff,” Lance murmurs gloomily in Joey’s ear.

Joey frowns at him again, and elbows him in the side.

“What?” Lance asks, rubbing his ribs, where a bruise is probably already starting to bloom.

“Jesus, Lance,” Joey whispers with annoyance. “Lighten the fuck up, you ass.” His voice hisses sibilantly in the sudden silence of the room. The others are watching them, not even trying to be subtle about it. Justin looks somber, JC casts Lance a sympathetic glance, and Chris just glares at him with what Lance can only call scorn. Johnny is doing his best to pretend that he’s no longer in the room.

Lance studies Justin for a moment. He looks good, of course, Justin always looks good, but he looks tired. Lance knows that Justin really wants to do this, but the lines around his eyes speak of sadness and regret. There was a time when Lance could make those lines disappear, but these days he’s more likely to be the cause of them.

Lance tries not to care. He certainly doesn’t want to. When he agreed to do this, it was with the understanding that he didn’t have to care.

But, really, when did he become this _person_ , this bleak, grumpy person, spreading doom and gloom all over the place, while everyone tiptoes around him like he’s going to go postal if they say one wrong word? Well, okay, Joey and Chris don’t do a lot of tiptoeing, but still, Lance knows that he and Justin make people uncomfortable when they’re together, and that Lance by himself makes them careful. Seriously, when did he become such a crank?

And Lance feels a sudden rush of grief, grief like he hasn’t felt in years. He hasn’t just lost Justin, who is probably the only person Lance is ever going to love the way he wants to love someone. And he didn’t just lose NSYNC, the way they all used to be with each other. He’s lost his sense of himself as a happy person. He used to be joyful, he knows this. He used to be able to see the light in everything, no matter how dark it looked. He didn’t used to be the person he’s turned into, and he _hates_ the way they’re all looking at him now, full of pity and guilt.

He lurches to his feet, pushing himself upright with a hand on Joey’s knee. “I-I,” he starts. He doesn’t get very far. He clears his throat. “I need to use the bathroom. I-I’ll be back.”

He attempts a weak smile, mostly for JC’s benefit, and ducks out of the room. He’s not the least bit surprised when Joey follows him into the bathroom, pushing the door open as Lance is splashing cold water on his face.

“You know,” Lance says conversationally as he reaches for a towel, looking around the room, “this bathroom is where Justin and I had one of the worst fights we ever had. You remember that one, Joey? You should, man,” he continues, when Joey remains silent, just watching him. “It was about you.”

“That’s enough, Lance,” Joey finally says, in the same voice he uses when Briahna refuses to take no for an answer when she wants something she can’t have.

And Lance looks at Joey, his best friend, standing in the middle of the bathroom that Lance always thinks of as the Dolphin Bathroom. It’s the bathroom where Justin once said so many unforgivable things, screaming insults at him, his anger almost frightening, until Lance shoved him into the wall with such force that the picture of dolphins knifing through the surface of bright blue water, the one that hung over the toilet, came crashing down, the frame cracking in two places, leaving broken glass all over the floor.

Lance has always loved that picture.

And now Joey stands there looking solid and dependable, and at the same time helpless and oh, so guilty, and Lance blurts out, his hand reaching for Joey, “God, Joey, I’m sorry. I’m such an ass. I’m so sorry.”

Joey shakes his head wearily. “Don’t. Don’t be sorry, Lance. Just, please, give us all a fucking break.” His posture is rigid, unapproachable, and Lance lets his hand fall to his side. “And don’t tell me you’re trying, man, because I know you’re trying. And I know it’s hard. But it’s been four months, Lance,” and Joey sighs, relenting and holding out his arms, and Lance gratefully accepts the invitation and lets Joey wrap him up in a warm hug, “and I just thought, I hoped, that things would be, I don’t know, easier by now,” Joey says, mumbling into Lance’s hair.

Lance hides his face in Joey’s shoulder, breathing deeply. He’s well aware of how obnoxious he’s been, but he thought he deserved to be, that he was entitled. He knows it’s not fair, though, not to any of them.

“We’re starting over, man. It’s a new record, a new tour, a new beginning. Just accept it, okay?” Joey pulls back and looks down into Lance’s face. “Okay? Can you do that?”

Lance takes a deep breath and nods. "I'll try." Joey scowls at him. “Okay, okay, I'll try really hard?” Lance lets a shaky laugh escape.

Joey’s smile is like the sun as he opens the bathroom door and pushes Lance out ahead of him. Lance looks back over Joeys’ shoulder at the picture over the toilet. He’d paid to have the picture reframed himself, because in spite of everything that went down in that bathroom, it’s a very cool picture.


	10. Inherit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **inherit: a:** to come into possession of or receive especially as a right or divine **b:** to receive from ancestors by genetic transmission **c:** to have in turn or receive as if from an ancestor

_“The next person who utters the words_ bigger than the Beatles _is gonna get their ass kicked!” Chris growled. “Haven’t you people ever heard of hubris?” He shot a glare around the table, but he was greeted mostly by blank stares. He shook his head like he was disgusted with all of them. “Okay, then how about a jinx? Haven’t you ever thought about how we’re gonna jinx everything if we’re all running around saying we’re gonna be bigger than the Beatles?”_

 _“Well, but, Chris, no one here-”_

 _“Shut up, Joey. I know you didn’t say it. But I heard that flack from Jive, the TRL-liaison guy, say it this morning.” Chris paused to take a swig of Coke._

 _Justin took advantage of the lull to say, “Well-” but that’s as far as he got before Chris swallowed and plowed ahead like Justin wasn’t even there._

 _“It’s not like the surviving Beatles are looking for someone to take their place as the greatest band of all time, you know,” he asserted._

 _“Dude, chill. It’ll be okay,” Justin said soothingly. He exchanged glances with Lance over Chris’s head. “JC, tell him it’s okay.”_

 _Justin hid a grin as JC jumped in and started telling Chris that it would be fine because no one was paying that much attention to them yet, anyway. Soon the whole world would be hanging on their every word, but not yet, so Chris could relax for now. Someday, Chris was going to catch on to the way Justin used JC to distract him whenever he really got going. Until that time, however, Justin was going to make full use of a tactic that was both effective and provided amusement for all concerned._

 _Chris was shaking his head and muttering darkly by the time JC wound down, but Justin could see the smile in his eyes as he hooked one arm around JC’s neck and clapped his other hand over JC’s mouth._

 _“Okay, group lunch is over.” Justin shoved his chair back from the table. “Me and Lance have plans.”_

 _Lance nodded and stood up. “There’s a whole beach waiting for us out there.” He gestured towards the glass doors that opened onto the hotel beach. “We’re in Honolulu, guys. We have a free day. What the hell are we doing inside?”_

 _They were in Hawaii to do several concerts, including one on New Year’s Eve. Britney was performing, too, and right now she was waiting to meet Justin and Lance on the beach. Justin put his hand on the small of Lance’s back as they left the dining room, urging him toward the elevators._

 _Justin and Lance had managed to snag the only available adjoining rooms on their floor, mostly because Justin had threatened Chris with bodily harm if he tried to take them for himself. Britney was down at the other end of the hall, which was a pain, but at least they were all on the same floor._

 _Justin and Britney weren’t even publicly admitting to dating yet, but Justin knew the time was coming. Jive had a whole timetable worked out, and Justin was fine with that. Britney was one of a small group of people Justin felt truly comfortable with. They’d known each other since they were children, and they’d grown up in similar circumstances. They’d shared so many of the same experiences, even if they hadn’t shared all of them together. They were used to existing in the public eye._

 _Britney knew about Justin and Lance, of course, and she and Lance adored each other. Brit knew that Justin considered Lance to be the love of his life, and she knew he wasn’t looking for a replacement._

 _She also knew that Justin was bi._

 _He had been trying all day to come up with a way to approach Lance about this. He decided to go for a direct attack._

 _“Hey,” Justin said, as he stuck his head through the open door between their rooms. Lance was just pulling his bathing suit up over his hips, and Justin whistled._

 _“Shut up,” Lance laughed softly. Justin sauntered into the room._

 _“Umm, you look hot,” he said as he cupped his hands around Lance’s ass and pulled him in for a kiss, grinding their hips together, quick and dirty._

 _“I look pale, is what I look,” Lance replied, easing his way out of Justin’s arms and reaching for a t-shirt. “No way am I going out there without a shirt. I’ll fry.”_

 _“Umm, too bad, all that pretty skin, hidden away,” Justin said with what he hoped was a seductive leer._

 _Lance squinted at him with a small smile. “Justin, did you want something?”_

 _“Busted,” Justin laughed nervously. He took a deep breath and just went for it. “Brit wants to know if she can, um,_ be _with us. You know, like watch us. Maybe even touch, um,_ do _stuff-” He broke off at the look of astonishment on Lance’s face as it dawned on him what Justin was talking about._

 _“Excuse me?” Justin wasn’t sure which was higher, Lance’s voice or his eyebrows._

 _“Hey, Brit doesn’t get a lot of play, stuck here with us, and-”_

 _“Justin, she’s supposed to be a virgin!” Lance exclaimed, his arms paused in mid-air, shoved halfway through the sleeves of his shirt._

 _Justin blinked. “Well, yeah. That’s why she doesn’t get a lot of play.”_

 _“Are you insane? Have you lost your mind?” Lance tugged his shirt over his head and furiously pulled it down over his bathing suit._

 _“Also, her soon-to-be official boyfriend has a boyfriend of his own,” Justin added with what he thought was unassailable logic._

 _Lance goggled at him. “You can actually say all this with a straight face?”_

 _Justin shrugged. “Sure. Don’t you think it might be, well, you know, kind of hot?” Justin really was curious. The whole idea had him hot and bothered, and he wondered how Lance could not feel the same way._

 _“Hot? Hot for one of my best friends, who happens to be a_ girl _, to watch me have sex with my boyfriend? Of course, what’s not hot about that? What was I thinking!?”_

 _Oh, right, the strictly gay thing. That could put a damper on Lance thinking the whole idea was hot. He narrowed his eyes and peered at Justin suspiciously. “Wait, is this because you miss girls or something?” His face softened into a thoughtful expression. “Because if it is, well, I guess it’s not really fair for you, is it?”_

 _Now Lance looked kind of guilty and Justin hastened to reassure him. “No, of course not.” It really wasn’t because he missed girls, Justin didn’t think. “We were just talking, is all. We thought it might be fun.”_

 _“Justin, it’s not the same as playing doctor when you’re ten years old.” Now Lance looked exasperated, and like he thought he was 40 or something, as he pushed his feet into his flipflops and oh-so-responsibly checked his backpack for sunscreen._

 _“Well, it kind of is,” Justin said reasonably. “Don’t you think so? Come on, Lance, it’ll be fun. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to do anything, you know, with Britney.” He looked around the room for his sunglasses. “Do they have towels on the beach, do you think?”_

 _“What, so only you are? You and Brit can do stuff, and you and I can do stuff, and she’s going to watch? Have I got that right?” Lance grabbed his key card off the dresser and tucked it in a side pocket of his backpack._

 _Justin nodded hopefully as he located his sunglasses and put them on._

 _Lance opened the door and waved Justin out into the hallway ahead of him. “Not in a million years, Justin. Not in a million years.”_

*

Lance doesn’t see his mother anymore when he looks in the mirror. He doesn’t know whether he regrets that or not. He’s not sorry about his nose, exactly, but he sometimes regrets losing the comfortable familiarity his reflection used to give him.

He used to feel a similar sense of home when he looked at Justin, too, but that was a long time ago. Now he doesn’t really look at Justin much at all. Not when Justin is looking back, anyway.

Which at the present time is making Joey huff impatiently. Lance just raises his eyebrows and stares at him, silently determined not to let Joey win. “The more you push, Joe,” he mutters under his breath.

Pointedly turning his back on Joey, Lance works quietly with Justin, going about the business of recording Lance’s part of the song Lance likes to call _Get Over It, Already_ , the one he thinks is all about Cameron dumping Justin’s ass. Not that he has a clue about what really happened, he only knows what he read in the tabloids over the past summer. He of all people is aware that you can’t rely on _US Weekly_ for accurate reporting, but there was no way he was going to ask anyone for the actual facts at the time, so he imagines all sorts of dramatic scenarios, ones where Justin pleads with Cameron not to go, while Cam stares at him disinterestedly, disdain oozing from every pore as she packs her suitcases.

He’s only a little ashamed of himself for that.

This is a beautiful song, bittersweet and aching, and the bass part in particular is lovely, the lines and melody haunting. In fact, his part is almost a solo in places, but Justin knows better than to push Lance for that. They’ve done this so many times that they can do it without a lot of chatter, using the music to communicate without words. Which Joey should know, and he needs to stop watching them, to stop monitoring Lance for any signs of _not trying._ Just because Lance and Justin aren’t sharing deep, soulful glances into each other’s eyes doesn’t mean they’re not getting along perfectly fine.

And, wow, this song truly is gorgeous, and Lance could sing this all day. He closes his eyes on the ninth take, just letting the sound wash over him, and it occurs to him how much Justin learned from Robin over the years about vocal arrangements and how their five voices fit together best. His voice catches on the sudden tightness in his throat, and he stops singing, stumbling to a halt in the middle of a phrase.

There’s a pause, then Justin says, “Lance?”

Lance opens his eyes and looks directly at Justin for the first time since Justin walked in on him with that guy in Chris’s bathroom. He blinks to clear away sudden tears, feeling like an idiot, but Justin smiles, a tentative, questioning smile.

Lance doesn’t let himself look away. “Robin,” he tries, and has to clear his throat. “I miss her. You, Justin, you, like, inherited how she was with our voices, or something.” Justin’s expression changes and his smile becomes sad. “You know what to do with them.”

“I miss her, too,” Justin says softly, shrugging. And Lance guesses he does. Justin isn’t heartless, after all. Being able to walk away from someone without a backward glance isn’t the same as not having a heart.

Lance knows Justin has a heart, because once upon a time, Lance broke it.

Okay, their big moment of emotional connection is over, and Lance forces his eyes back to the music on the stand in front of him, but it’s with reluctance that he does, and he feels something ease inside, just a bit.

Lance has learned from his mother over the years how to stay strong, how not to give in, no matter how much people might want him to. He’s watched her stand up to friends and relatives who thought Lance shouldn’t date boys, that he shouldn’t try to go to space or anything else he might fail at, who think he shouldn’t be out, that being gay is a sin. Some of the battles in her life have been fought in opposition to Lance’s father, and some of them have been fought at his side.

Those lessons serve Lance well, and he doesn’t give in easily, and while he knows his stubbornness sometimes infuriates and annoys the people who love him most, it’s one of the things he’s the most proud of about himself, one of the traits his mother passed on to him that he’s glad to have. He doesn’t give in, and he tries very hard not to let himself be swayed by others. It’s not been easy, and he’s not always successful, particularly when it comes to the four men his life has been irrevocably entangled with since he was practically a child.

But his mother also taught him that there’s a time to give in, a time to let someone else win. She recognized that it was one of those times thirteen years ago, when she sat in Lou’s office and let total strangers persuade her to give them her only son, based solely on the desire Lance knew she saw in his eyes.

And Lance knows it’s one of those times now. He actually thinks he feels something thaw in his chest, although he suspects that’s pretty fanciful. But he looks at Joey, who doesn’t have any reason to be in the studio this afternoon other than to babysit Lance, and he thinks of JC and his infinite reserves of patience and love. He thinks of Chris, his anger camouflaging his hard-earned optimism and his vulnerability.

And he looks at Justin, really looks at him, and for once he doesn’t see the man who broke his heart. He sees instead the boy who won it so many years ago.

*

 _Lance flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes and laid his head back against his lounge chair, letting the hot sun and the sea breeze soothe him. There were photographers all over the place, and he absolutely couldn’t believe Justin. Okay, taking his shirt off was fine, they were on a beach, and Justin didn’t mind being photographed shirtless at all, in fact he loved it._

 _Offering to put sunscreen on Lance’s back if he would take his own shirt off, finding a reason to bend over or flex something every five minutes, and looking for excuses to touch Lance, whether it was to shoo a “fly” away from his cheek or brush sand off his chest, were something else entirely. Nudging Lance with his elbow and winking whenever Britney tossed her hair back was just making him laugh, however, and so Lance lowered his sunglasses and looked out over the ocean, listening to the sound of the waves, because he didn’t want to encourage Justin in any way._

 _Justin was relentless when he wanted something, a flair for being persistent that he had gotten from his mother. Lynn had taught Justin never to take no for an answer, and that if he wanted something badly enough, people would find a way to give it to him, as long as he kept trying. Their combined forces of will had been one of the most important elements in the creation of NSYNC, and it made Justin think he could accomplish anything if he just tried hard enough._

 _It was, in fact, making Justin think that he could get his boyfriend into bed with his pseudo-girlfriend, and while it was amusing to watch him try, it wasn’t going to happen. It was a bad idea on so many levels, and Lance ignored the heat that had flashed through him when Justin first mentioned it. Britney was his friend, and even though she was headlining her own tour now, they still found themselves thrown together often, and it would be awkward to know she had seen him like that. To look at her and know she had been there when Justin kissed him, when Justin touched him, to know that she had watched him come while Justin-_

 _And, no. Just no. He calmly reached for his towel, intent on draping it across his lap and the sudden hardness there, but it wasn’t where he’d left it, in the warm sand next to his chair. He groped around and heard a soft snicker close to his ear._

 _“Dude. You so want to.”_

 _“Hello, Justin,” Lance said, in an attempt to hold on to his dignity. Justin ignored him._

 _“I’m about ready to head on in. You know what the beach does to my hair. Same as my momma’s hair, salt water’s not good for this shit.” He yanked at a handful of curls and grinned. “Someday, I swear, I’ma shave it all off.”_

 _Lance looked at Justin, the sun shining on his head full of curls, reflected in his smiling eyes, all playful grin and long, sleek muscles and golden skin. He looked at Britney, smiling at him with a combination of hope and embarrassment. He felt drugged by the hot sun and the golden sand and the soporific sounds of the waves and the people laughing and playing all around them._

 _He caved. Justin knew the minute he did, and he whooped in triumph. Britney shushed him, and they began to gather up their things for the walk back to their rooms._

 _Afterwards, Lance was never sure if it had been a mistake or not. He lay across Justin’s bed, drowsing in the late afternoon sun that came through the window, feeling its heat on his already sunburned skin. Justin and Britney slept next to him, all three of them tangled up in the sheets, and each other. He studied their faces through half-closed eyes, but neither of them gave anything away in their sleep._

 _He still felt Britney’s hand, smaller and softer and more unsure than Justin’s, bringing him to hardness while Justin kissed him._

 _He could still taste Brit’s skin, salty from the ocean, as he kissed her soft, round breasts while Justin licked between her legs, and she moaned in Lance’s ear._

 _He saw himself kissing his way up Justin’s spine while Justin held himself over Britney, gently thrusting his way inside._

 _He could still hear Justin frantically pleading, “yes, please, I want you to,” and then Lance was coming deep inside him while Britney watched with wide eyes._

 _Then, finally, he was sucking Justin off, not able to keep the possessiveness out of his expression while he locked eyes with Britney._

 _As he fell asleep, Justin behind him, his arm tight around him, Lance thought maybe he liked it too much to ever do it again._


	11. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **snow: a:** precipitation in the form of small white ice crystals formed directly from the water vapor of the air at a temperature of less than 32°F (0°C) **b:** to deceive, persuade, or charm glibly

_Lance thought whoever had come up with this whole_ Snowed In _concept was a genius. He was having a blast, even if he_ had _fallen on his ass a million times, trying to snowboard. Justin, of course, was zipping flawlessly up and down the mountain, but Justin wasn’t trying to do showy tricks or navigate snowboarding courses miles beyond his capabilities. Justin approached snowboarding the way he did everything else, carefully, calculating the risks, then pushing himself hard enough to be really good at it, but not hard enough to fail. Lance didn’t begrudge him that, it was one of the things that made NSYNC so successful, and that was just the way Justin was. Some people didn’t handle failure well at all._

 _Lance, however, was lucky that he hadn’t broken anything vital, and also, that no one important was really paying much attention to him today. He didn’t see the point of trying something new, something that involved speed and new clothes and special equipment, if you weren’t going to go all out. But he spent half his free time peering around corners as he navigated his way through the lodge, just waiting for someone in charge to start yelling at him about insurance and cancelled appearances due to his potential broken legs if he didn’t knock it off with the daredevil stuff._

 _He and Justin came in off the slopes in the early afternoon. The MTV cameras had been up there with them, they were, in fact everywhere, and MTV cameras were one area where Lance was_ not _reckless. Justin’s nose was red from the cold, and Lance had to resist the urge to plant a warm, wet kiss on it. Justin waved at the cameras, saying, “Hey, y’all, gotta get out of these wet clothes. Later.”_

 _They headed for the elevators, laughing and bumping shoulders as they went, knowing full well the cameras would continue filming until the elevator doors closed. Once inside, Lance collapsed against Justin’s chest, still giggling at the expression on Justin’s face when Lance almost crashed into Carson at the bottom of the slope. Justin brushed melting snow out of Lance’s hair and smiled indulgently at him. “It’s a good thing Johnny isn’t here yet, man,” he said. “He’d kick your ass if he could see you doing that shit.”_

 _“I didn’t do it on purpose, Justin. I thought I could get stopped in time.” Lance’s laughter trailed off as he spoke, his voice muffled by Justin’s jacket. “You’re the one who taught me how to stop, it’s your fault I did it wrong.”_

 _“Dude, you can’t kill Carson Daly. You do, and there go our careers.” The elevator doors slid silently open, and Justin gave Lance a push. “Get going.”_

 _Glancing up and down the deserted hallway as they approached their rooms, Lance said, “Hey, you want to come help me get warmed up?” He waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped was an irresistible invitation._

 _Justin looked around the corridor, too, then nodded. “Let me get some clothes and stuff. Be right there.”_

 _Fifteen minutes later, Justin had Lance pinned against cool bathroom tiles, steam swirling around them in the spacious shower, arms over his head, both of Lance’s wrists trapped in his hand. Lance’s fingers curled helplessly as Justin moved his other hand gently over his ass and laughed softly._

 _“Dude, you’ve got a huge bruise on your ass.”_

 _Lance peered back over his shoulder, trying to see. “Really?”_

 _“Yeah, it must be from one of the many, many times you fell on it.” Justin grinned, water running down his face and into his eyes, and Lance tried to kiss him, twisting his arms in an attempt to get free and reach his mouth. Justin kissed him briefly, firmly, then shook his head, pressing up against his back and tightening his grip on Lance’s wrists, his other hand sliding smoothly over Lance’s slick skin and down between his legs._

 _Lance caught his breath and pushed his hips back, arching into Justin’s touch. Justin kissed his neck, licking behind his ear and Lance shivered under the warm spray. As Justin slipped two fingers inside him, Lance pressed his forehead against the wall, moaning._

 _“I love the sounds you make,” Justin murmured in his ear, twisting his fingers and making Lance moan again. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”_

 _Lance really had no choice, not when Justin had him like this. He let himself go, gasping when Justin finally slid deep inside, groaning as Justin fucked him until he didn’t think his legs would hold him up any longer. “Oh, shit, shit,” he gritted out when Justin reached around to roughly jerk him off. Justin wasn’t particularly quiet either, and when he came, he hissed Lance’s name, his fingers tightening around Lance’s wrists, probably leaving bruises to match the one on his ass._

 _Lance loved big hotels, because they almost never ran out of hot water, no matter how long you stayed in the shower. He stood there, luxuriating in the warmth, as Justin gently rubbed his arms, placing a soft kiss on the tender skin on the inside of his left wrist. Lance smiled and cupped Justin’s face with his palm, rubbing his thumb over Justin’s mouth. Justin grinned and turned his head, kissing Lance’s palm._

 _“We’d better get going. MTV’s waiting,” Lance said, reluctant to hurry._

 _Justin sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Lance’s shoulder. Lance let him stay there for a minute, as he studied the array of bottles arranged on the shelf in the corner of the shower._

 _“Mmm,” he said lazily, tilting his head and kissing Justin’s temple softly. “It’s a good thing I keep plenty of lube in the shower.”_

 _Justin turned to look, too. “Dude,” he said, reaching for the shampoo, “You are so prepared. You’re like a Boy Scout.”_

 _“Not hardly,” Lance said dryly._

 _Justin laughed and worked lather through his hair. “No, I guess not.”_

 _“Although I think we do way cooler shit than the Boy Scouts do,” Lance said as Justin handed him the shampoo. “They never get to do stuff like this.”_

*

Justin and Joey are the last ones to leave the studio the Monday before their Thanksgiving break starts. They’re working on the first verse of a new song, one that Justin wrote about things that happened almost seven years ago. He actually just wrote it a few months ago, when he knew they were going to do this, and that he was going to be spending time with Lance again. He didn’t mean to, it just came out when he sat down at the piano one day. He hesitated about showing it to the rest of the guys, then he thought, fuck it. It’s a good song.

He’s had to clean the lyrics up a bit, although that doesn’t matter like it used to, back when they aimed for a specific demographic, the young and supposedly innocent one. None of them are really concerned these days about whether the word _fuck_ appears in a song. _Fucking cocksucker_ , though, even JC thought that one had to go, and Justin has to agree.

He doesn’t know if Lance has figured out what story the song is telling, or if Justin’s revamped lyrics are vague enough that only Justin knows what they’re actually about. The details are smudged, and all that’s really left is the feel of it. It’s an angry song, with an angry, discordant sound, and JC and Chris both love it, the two of them really getting into it when they sing.

Joey, though, Joey’s not quite there yet, and since the way they make music together has changed, the vocal arrangements using Joey’s voice more, needing it to blend with Justin’s voice on the higher parts, Joey has to get it. Justin needs Joey’s voice now, needs it to carry his own up into falsetto range, helping it soar like it used to, and that’s okay. Justin’s come to terms with his voice not being able to do what it used to do, and he doesn’t regret it so much anymore. Regrets are a waste of precious time, and a denial of what’s still possible.

Joey frowns at him doubtfully as Justin cues the song up again. Justin takes a deep breath. “What, Joey?” he says patiently.

“Why were you so mad when you wrote this, J?” Justin is surprised at the question. He doesn’t think Joey really wants to know. He shrugs.

“It’s just a song, Joey. You know, you kick things around, ideas, whatever. It doesn’t mean it’s real or anything.” He meets Joey’s eye and smiles brightly. Joey doesn’t look at all convinced.

“I just wondered, I mean, you know, if it was something, um personal.” Joey doesn’t usually have so much trouble putting a complete sentence together, and Justin wonders what’s on his mind. Joey kicks his feet against the rung of the stool he’s planted on, sounding out a counter-rhythm to the song.

Justin shrugs again. “Well, I guess every song you write is a little bit personal, right?” He looks around for the bottle of water he left sitting somewhere, trying to distract both of them from this conversation.

Justin’s song echoes around the studio, waiting for the two missing voices to make it complete. Joey keeps listening, his head cocked to the side, his eyes closed.

“Justin,” he finally says, opening his eyes, and the tone of his voice makes Justin uneasy, makes him pause as he reaches for the water he finds on the floor next to one of the stools. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation with Joey, of all people. He waits, trying to feign nonchalance, peeling the label off the bottle in his hand.

Joey surprises him again. “Do you sometimes wonder what things would be like, if Lance hadn’t told you about what happened? Back then, I mean. If you guys would have stayed together, or broken up at some point anyway? If it would have been less-”

And Justin doesn’t talk about this with Joey, not ever, so he quickly breaks in, saying, “We would have had to grow up sooner or later, Joe.” He’s not sure he believes that, but it’s what he says.

And Joey pins him with a stare, and Justin stops fiddling with the water bottle and stares back. This is Joey, and in spite of everything, Joey is his friend. “Do you want to get back together with Lance, Justin?”

And whoa, that’s direct. And even if it’s what he wants, what he wishes for, he hasn’t said it out loud yet, not even to his mom, who knows anyway. And Joey’s his friend, and that means he’ll let Justin off the hook on this one if Justin tries hard enough. He has to, it’s what old friends do. He shakes his head and attempts a laugh to see what it sounds like. Not too bad, so he does it again.

“Joey, what kind of a question is that? Things happened the way they happened, none of us can change what went down, and it’s fine, Lance and I are fine, and you don’t have to worry, if that’s what’s going on here.” Justin realizes he has no idea what Joey would think about the possibility of-

Justin cuts that line of thought off. Not only does he not say it out loud, he refuses to let himself think about it except in the most nebulous of terms.

They stare at each other until Joey looks away. Justin tries not to let his relief show as he says lightly, “You never know what the future holds, Joey. I’m not counting on anything, and I’m not ruling anything out.” And that’s as much of an non-answer as Joey will let him get away with, probably, so when Joey’s cell phone rings, Justin closes his eyes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks.

It’s JC and Justin can tell he’s pissed just from the way Joey’s phone is humming like an angry wasp, the vibrations of JC’s voice strident and harsh and fitting perfectly into the song that’s still reverberating around the studio on a playback loop.

Joey immediately starts to make soothing sounds into the phone while he rolls his eyes at Justin. From what Justin can gather, JC’s plane to Chicago has been delayed because O’Hare is snowed in. It’s only November, and the snow storm was more severe than predicted, and JC is pissed. There’s nothing he hates more than sitting around an airport with nothing to do, and Justin shares a sympathetic grimace with Joey. They know the feeling.

Justin stops playback on the song and starts shutting things down on the soundboard. They’re not going to get anything else accomplished here today, and they might as well shelve it for the holidays. By the time Joey’s managed to calm JC down and convince him that he’s not going to die of boredom, and that while Joey loves JC, he’s not about to drive all the way out to the airport to keep him company while he waits, Justin’s ready to go. He motions to Joey to give him his phone, and Joey hands it over.

“Hey, C. Tough luck on the weather. I know, I know. C. C, shut up a minute. Why don’t you call Chris? I know for a fact his lazy ass isn’t doing anything this afternoon. Right, right. Okay, man, have a good holiday. Kiss your mom and dad for me, and tell Tyler I said to fuck off. No, you ass, not Heather, Tyler! Tell him I owe him one from last time.” He raises his eyebrows inquiringly at Joey, and Joey shakes his head emphatically, so Justin just closes the phone and gives it back to him.

Joey looks around and it seems to dawn on him that they’re finished, with both the recording and the heart-to-heart conversation, and he gives Justin a look, like he knows he’s been hustled, but he’ll let it go this time. Justin gives him a wide grin, the one that Joey’s almost never been able to resist, and they head out into the hot Florida sunshine with Joey’s arm draped across Justin’s shoulder, warm and heavy.

*

 _The cameras were waiting for them in the lobby of the lodge, and Joey was waiting in the hallway, so Justin and Lance dressed quickly, once they managed to drag themselves away from the shower. They hadn’t really taken that long, and the noise of the shower should have drowned out the noises Lance had made while they were in there. Justin loved those noises, there was something about how helpless Lance was to stop them that was very hot._

 _So Justin thought Joey should lighten up and stop glowering at them. They were all working hard this weekend, and he thought they deserved a break away from the cameras every once in a while. He frowned back at Joey in the elevator, crossing his arms over his chest and working his best scowl. Lance looked at both their faces and smacked Joey’s arm. Joey’s face softened as he looked at Lance, and when the elevator doors opened, they were all smiling as they walked into a forest of cameras and hot lights._

 _Justin had no idea where Chris and JC were, and Joey should be off frowning at them, really. There were girls in the lobby, a carefully chosen group scattered around the various chairs and couches, lounging in front of the fire, self-consciously trying to pretend the MTV cameras weren’t there. Justin nudged Lance and they moved toward the piano that waited over by the windows. Lance sat down, and looked up at Justin, his eyes sparkling with laughter. He patted the piano bench invitingly, and Justin grinned. “Shove over,” he said, and he sat down next to Lance._

 _Lance immediately launched into_ Heart and Soul _, and Justin laughed and joined in. Lance’s cheeks were sunburned, and he looked both adorable and well-fucked, if you knew what you were looking for, which Justin did, and as he smiled at one of the girls that had gathered around the piano, he practically radiated happiness. Justin felt something in his chest tighten, and then as they ended the song, he glanced across the room at Joey. He was sitting by the fireplace, studiously ignoring them, reading a newspaper as if he were the only person in the room._

 _Justin didn’t get what Joey’s problem was. He was pretty sure Joey didn’t want Lance for himself, not in a romantic or sexual way, but sometimes Joey acted like he was competing with Justin for something. As if he had to fight Justin for Lance’s favor, or his attention. Which was ridiculous, because Joey spent as much time with Lance as Justin did, if not more, if Justin really thought about it._

 _He and Lance a noodled around some more, playing a few more songs, then Lance said, “Okay, Justin, your turn to wow ‘em,” nodding at the girls surrounding them. He winced as he got to his feet, moving a little stiffly. He laughed. “I think I may have overdone it on the slopes today.” Or maybe in the shower, Justin thought, and he grinned up at Lance, whose cheeks became even more flushed than they already were._

 _The girl stretched out on top of the piano waved some kind of flower at Justin, like she was conducting an orchestra, and he stopped trying to embarrass Lance and started playing something, watching out of the corner of his eye as Lance made his way over to Joey._

 _Joey looked up from his newspaper and smiled, warm and welcoming, like there was nothing that could make him happier than to see Lance standing there. Lance smiled back down at him, and Justin told himself not to be stupid. It was nothing like the kind of smiles Lance saved for Justin. It was the smile you gave your best friend, and that was all it was._


	12. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **jealous: a:** intolerant of rivalry or unfaithfulness **b:** disposed to suspect rivalry or unfaithfulness **c:** hostile toward a rival or one believed to enjoy an advantage **d:** vigilant in guarding a possession

“You’re shitting me.” JC gapes at Chris, his mouth hanging open in amazement.

“Nope. I am definitely not shitting you, Chasez.” Chris in full-out gloating mode is usually something Lance likes to avoid, but he has to admit the look on JC’s face is priceless. “Obviously,” he says as he waves his hand at the box he brought in the studio. “And C, close your mouth. Something might fly in there, if you’re not careful.”

JC closes his mouth with a snap. “How? Just answer me that. How the hell did you manage it?” JC glares at Chris, who cackles gleefully.

“I know people, C. People _you_ obviously don’t know.” His eyes sparkle with amusement.

Lance is perfectly willing to believe that Chris engineered the whole getting his hands on a Platinum Xbox Live for Christmas thing, when they’ve been completely unobtainable to the general public for months before the holidays, simply to drive JC out of his mind with jealousy. If so, it’s worked beautifully. JC is practically quivering with baffled envy.

JC caresses the shiny silver box, lust and longing in his eyes. Chris smirks and winks at Justin. “It’s gorgeous,” JC sighs.

“I think this here is going to make choosing buses even more interesting than it was already gonna be,” Chris says, patting the X-Box affectionately. Lance glances sharply over at him, but Chris regards him mildly, his face unreadable. Buses for their upcoming tour is a topic they all pretty much avoid, and Lance wonders if maybe Chris had more than one ulterior motive when he figured out a way to get the newest Xbox incarnation in his hot little hands well before almost anyone else in the civilized world.

There’s no way they’re going to get any work done now, so they spend their first day back in the studio after Christmas playing Halo 5. It’s a nice way to ease back into things, Lance thinks. They spent a long time away from each other, years, and now any break at all makes them fall back into acting like they don’t remember how to be together.

One more thing to lay at Justin’s door.

Lance had a very nice Christmas with his family. Stacy’s kids are amazing, and he and his dad and Ford always have a good time hunting or fishing. He’s never unhappy in Mississippi. It’s one reason he always tells people he’s from there whenever he gets the chance, whether he’s on TV, or the radio, in fact, any time anyone sticks a microphone in his face. Being from Mississippi is his talisman, and he won’t ever leave it behind.

Chris used to laugh at him for that, although not in an unkind way. JC always looked puzzled when Lance talked about where he was from as if it was the most important thing about him. Place isn’t important to JC, people are. It doesn’t matter to him where he grew up, what matters is who he grew up with. Joey talks about being from Brooklyn, and he’s proud of it, but when his family moved to Orlando, Joey never looked back.

Justin, though. Justin gets it. He’s never mocked Lance for being so fiercely proud of where he’s from, and in fact he shares Lance’s love for all things Southern. It was one of the things Lance used to like best about him.

And now they’re back in Orlando, back in the studio. Jive’s been making noises about them going to LA to put the finishing touches on the album, and perversely, after all his bitching, now Lance doesn’t want to go. He feels like he may be making some progress in finding a bit of peace with the way things are, in spite of his occasional lapses into bitterness. LA has a tendency to make him do stupid things, he’s not above admitting that. He feels safer here. Safe from himself, and safe from the constant reminders of the gap between Justin and the rest of them that LA always seems happy to provide.

For the first time in forever, Lance actually beats JC at a video game. Lance figures it’s because JC’s still trying to figure out how Chris ended up with something JC’s been coveting for months, and he’s distracted. Lance recovers from his shock when Justin says, “My turn! Shove over, JC, I want a turn.” It’s the voice of Justin from a million years ago, and it makes something hurt in Lance’s chest. This whole reunion thing, and it’s like he has to lose Justin over and over again with each reminder.

He looks around, and his eyes light on Joey. “Here, Joe, you haven’t had a turn yet.” And he abruptly stands up and shoves his controls blindly in Joey’s direction.

He hears Justin sigh, and the anger that’s always there, simmering just beneath the surface, rises up, surprising him with its sudden intensity.

“What? What is it, Justin? What’s wrong now?” he snarls.

Justin looks at him, startled, then his eyes narrow. “What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I’m sick of you treating me like I have some contagious disease, like it would be the end of the world if you spent more than five minutes with me, or got within five feet of me.” His voice gets louder as he speaks, and at the end, he’s almost yelling, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. JC, who’s been holding out his controls for Justin to take, lowers his arm slowly, looking between the two of them. The worry on his face just pisses Lance off more.

“Maybe it would be! Maybe it would make me sick! Maybe I think you destroy everything you get close to!” And hello, dramatic much? But Lance doesn’t care. Chris is standing off to the side, tension in every line of his body, glaring. Lance doesn’t care about Chris, either. Because suddenly they’ve gotten down to it, sides. Everybody gets to make it perfectly clear whose side they’re on now, right out in the open. Lance can’t wait. He’s sick of all the bullshit. Screw peace of mind.

“What do you mean by that, Lance? How do I do that?” Justin turns to confront him and his voice is shaking.

“By leaving! Did you ever notice that, Justin? You have a bad habit of leaving when other people need you to stay!” And he doesn’t mean to say any of this, but things have escalated so quickly, and anyway, it’s not like he hasn’t said it before.

“It wasn’t just me, Lance. And maybe the things I left weren’t worth staying around for.” Justin looks stricken, and he bites his lip like those words weren’t supposed to come out. “Maybe it was impossible for me to stay.”

“You mean like NSYNC? Is that what you mean, Justin? NSYNC wasn’t worth staying for?” And that’s not fair at all, and Lance knows it and he’s too mad to care.

The expression on Justin’s face is bleak. “Fuck you,” he says hoarsely. “That’s not what I meant and you know it, you bastard. And fuck you, too, Joe,” he says as he shakes Joey’s hand off him arm. Joey backs off reluctantly, looking grim.

“How would I know that, Justin? It’s not like you’ve included us in your success for a while, is it?” He needs to be careful here, because he knows JC and Joey feel plenty successful these days, and he really doesn’t mean to imply that what they’ve accomplished on their own is less than what Justin has done.

But it’s Chris who’s looking furiously at him. “You need to shut up, Lance. It’s not Justin’s fault, the way things are. He’s not responsible for how things have gone for you since we-”

“Shut up, Chris,” Justin hisses furiously. He’s white around the mouth and his eyes glitter. He turns to Lance. “Do you really want to rehash what happened, Lance? Here, now?”   
He gestures to everyone else in the room. “Again?”

And no, Lance doesn’t want to do that. He looks away, and suddenly he can’t breathe, his chest hurts and his throat is tight. He shakes his head, once, sharp and short. Distantly he hears Justin tell the rest of them to get out. And then he hears Justin’s voice, close behind him. He doesn’t turn around.

“Lance. I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought, I hoped-” and Justin breaks off. Lance can’t think about what those words might mean, what Justin might hope for. He can only hear Justin’s voice in his ear, and the sense memories that recalls make him tremble. He almost doesn’t hear what Justin says next. “I hoped we could be friends again.” He sounds defeated.

Lance doesn’t want to be friends. He wants to go back, back to when being friends was only part of what they were. He wants Justin, he’s never stopped wanting Justin, for all the good it’s done him. “No.” It’s the only word he can make himself say.

Lance waits until he hears the door close before he turns around. Justin’s gone and Joey’s in his place, waiting for him. Joey shakes his head, his eyes kind, but he says, “Lance, man, you’ve got to stop this. You’re gonna tear us all apart again.”

Lance’s eyes burn and he’s suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know how to stop, Joe. I want-” he breaks off. No. He’s not going to say it.

But Joey nods anyway. “I know.” He studies Lance’s face. “Come on, let’s go home. It’s warm enough to swim today. Let’s get Bri and you guys can spend the rest of the day in the pool.”

*

 _“Why you two? Does Al Gore know something he shouldn’t?” Chris asked. Justin was surprised at the snide tone of voice._

 _He shook his head. “Dude, don’t be like that. Al Gore’s from Tennessee, you know. Maybe it’s because we’re both from the South?” He had no idea why just he and Lance had been invited to the White House Easter Egg Hunt. For all he knew, the whole group had been invited and Johnny had decided that only Lance and Justin should go. It didn’t seem like a big deal to Justin, but it obviously was to Chris._

 _“Oh, are you? I hadn’t heard that before.” Haha, thought Justin. Very funny. “I thought maybe it’s because you’re both so young that you’re still interested in hunting for Easter eggs with a bunch of other little kids.” Chris slammed his beer down on the table between him and Justin._

 _“At the White House? Hell, yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?” Justin ignored the comment about his age._

 _They were sitting out by Justin’s pool, enjoying one of the few free days they were going to have for quite a while. The_ No Strings Attached _tour was slated to get underway in May, just about three weeks from now, and as they sold more CDs with each passing week, things just kept getting crazier and crazier. One of those crazy things was apparently Chris._

 _“I like Easter Egg hunts,” Chris mumbled, picking up his beer again and taking a long swig, not looking over at Justin._

 _Ah. “I know, Chris, me and Lance didn’t plan this, you know?” Not that Justin minded it at all. He was excited about going to the White House with Lance. They were both looking forward to it._

 _Chris sighed and didn’t say anything for a while, just lay back in his lounge chair and closed his eyes against the bright midday sun. Justin waited, listening to the spring breeze rustle through the palm trees around the pool._

 _“Okay, I’m over it,” Chris said briskly. “It’s not like there’s not going to be any time to hang out with you in the next year or so, or however long Johnny’s got this tour going on. I can probably pry you away from Bass every once in a while.” Chris sat up and blinked at Justin. “I know you’re underage, Timberlake, but there’s got to be more beer around here somewhere.”_

 _Justin couldn’t help thinking back to that conversation just two weeks later when he was packing to go to Hawaii with Brit._

 _“I’ll be back in time for your birthday, Lance. Johnny says-”_

 _“I don’t care what Johnny says, Justin. It’s my 21st birthday.” Lance sat on the bed, watching as Justin studied a pile of t-shirts, trying to decide which ones to take with him._

 _“Which I’ll be back in time for, I think I said.” He tried leering at Lance, without much success. “I wouldn’t miss that. You’ll be all legal and shit.”_

 _“And you won’t be. What’s your point?” Justin gritted his teeth. He hated it when Lance got pissy like this._

 _“Lance. It’s just a few days. It’s just with Brit. I don’t get what your problem is. Why are you being such a bitch about this?” He threw his Abercrombie flipflops into the suitcase on top of his bathing suit._

 _“Maybe I’m not thrilled about you going off with Britney for a week in Hawaii.” Justin stopped counting pairs of underwear and looked closely at Lance, who was playing with the handle of Justin’s suitcase, flipping it back and forth, not meeting Justin’s eyes. Justin covered Lance’s hand with his own, stilling it, tangling their fingers together._

 _“Why not?” Justin asked him softly._

 _“Because.” Lance shrugged. “I don’t think you miss me when you’re with her.”_

 _Justin took a minute to answer that. It was ridiculous, he missed Lance whenever they were apart. He and Britney had fun together, but that’s all it was. They had a job to do. Luckily, it was a job Justin enjoyed a great deal. “Lance. Look at me.” Lance raised his eyes from where he had been studying their joined hands. “I love you and I’ll be back for your birthday.”_

 _Lance studied him closely, then nodded. “I know.” He leaned forward and kissed Justin quickly. “I know.”_

*

“Can you believe this guy?” Joey slams a sheaf of papers down on the table, pulls out his chair and slumps down into it. He’s the last one to arrive and he sits there scowling a minute before he seems to realize that the rest of them are staring at him in bemusement. He glances around the table with a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

“What’s up, Joe? The pool guy again?” Lance’s smile is sympathetic. Justin has no idea what’s going on.

“Yeah. Fucker. He’s actually filed papers with the zoning board with measurements exactly one foot bigger in every direction! Can you believe that?”

Chris is cackling into his Coke, and JC’s trying to hide a smile behind his hand. Justin starts to feel a little paranoid that everyone knows what Joey’s talking about except him. Things have been a bit strained between them all since the fight he and Lance had the other day. One of the things that doesn’t seem to have changed much over the years is the way the other guys react to his and Lance’s battles. Everyone has opinions, and everyone tries to pretend they don’t, so that things stay smooth on the surface, but underneath, there are shifting loyalties and hidden alliances. Justin hates it, he always did, but he can’t really blame them for it. There are days he’s just grateful that JC, Chris and Joey are willing to do this again. He may have said hell no if he’d been in their shoes. He’s sure they’ve been tempted to do just that on more than one occasion.

He waits, and sure enough, Chris fills him in. “There’s a guy trying to build a pool bigger than Joe’s pool.” And that’s all the explanation Justin needs to get it. Joey’s inordinately proud of having the biggest domestic swimming pool in the state of Florida, or whatever, and if someone’s threatening that, well, there’s no way he’s gonna to let that go without a fight.

“How did you find out?” he asks Joey curiously.

“You know he has a whole network of contractor friends,” JC says, and no, Justin didn’t know that. “They make sure to keep him up to date on important stuff like this.” JC’s smile is mocking but affectionate.

Joey doesn’t even notice. He’s rifling through his pile of papers, frowning at them. “I think I can figure out a way to stop him,” he muses. “I just need to go see Frank at the zoning board tomorrow morning.” He absently starts eating the hamburger Lance ordered earlier, so it would be ready for him when he showed up. He takes a bite and grimaces. “Bass, what the hell did you get me? Is there _bacon_ on this?”

“No, Joey, there’s no _bacon_ on your hamburger. Here, give me that.” Lance grabs the hamburger out of Joey’s hands, opens it up, takes off a couple of strips of bacon, which he deposits on his own plate, closes it up again, and hands it back to Joey. “See? No bacon.” He grins, and Justin’s heart breaks a little at the sight. He quickly looks away. There’s no surer way to make that smile disappear than for Lance to catch Justin watching him.

Later, when Lance and JC are huddled together discussing how JC wants Lance to sing the solo Lance is refusing point blank to sing on the song JC wrote about friendship, the one Justin calls _Bros Before Hos_ in his head, and Chris plays Halo with the kind of concentration Justin usually reserves for sex or golf, Justin listens to Joey’s voice rise sweetly on the bridge of the song they’re currently laying down. He allows himself a moment of envy as he listens. He can still sing falsetto, of course, just not very well and not for long before he feels the strain. He sighs and gives himself a mental shake and reminds himself that he can still sing a hell of a song, and that falsetto isn’t everything. He’s lucky that he has four people to sing with him, people that don’t judge his voice, who love him for what he can do, and who will do their best to make it all sound as perfect as they can make it.

He meets Joey’s eye and Joey smiles sympathetically at him. He nods back and starts singing, too.


	13. Write

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **write: a:** to set down in writing **b:** to compose in musical form

_“Hey, guys, look what I found.” Justin waved a copy of_ Rolling Stone _around as he showed up in Lance’s room for breakfast, coming through the adjoining door from his own room. It was a fairly recent issue, one that featured a long article about NSYNC, part of the_ No Strings Attached _promo. “Remember this one? The one from March? That piece by Anthony Bozza?”_

 _“That was only six months ago, Justin. My memory isn’t completely gone yet, you know,” Chris groused at him, pouring way too much ketchup on his eggs. Justin ignored him, dumping cereal into a bowl and flattening the magazine out beside his cup of coffee. Lance smiled at Justin and passed him the milk._

 _“I know, I know, but listen to this part. How come I don’t remember this part?” Justin started to read out loud._

 _THE PHENOMENA OF THESE NOT-EXACTLY MACHO GUYS ENGAGING IN ANTI-MACHO ACTIVITIES AND BEING REWARDED WITH THE ADORATION OF A ZILLION NUBILE WOMEN PREDICTABLY WINS THEM PLENTY OF ENEMIES AMONG THE DUDES. "THERE IS AN ANXIETY AMONG THE DETRACTORS ON THE INTERNET," SAYS WALD, "IN REGARD TO WHETHER THESE BOY BANDS ARE MASCULINE ENOUGH -- ARE THEY 'QUEER,' BOTH IN THE SENSE OF BEING GAY AND ALSO IN BEING 'OFF' IN THEIR MASCULINITY. THEIR LYRICS ARE NOT OVERTLY SEXUAL LIKE SOME OF THE R &B SINGERS' ARE, AND THE FACT THAT THEY DON'T PLAY INSTRUMENTS IS AN ISSUE AS WELL. THEY'RE REALLY NOT BANDS PER SE, THEY'RE BOYS DOING THINGS WITH THEIR HANDS. THE MUSICAL DENIGRATION OF THE BOY GROUPS INTERSECTS WITH A SENSE THAT WHAT GIRLS LIKE IS DISMISSIBLE. IT DEVALUES GIRLS' PLEASURE." _

_ALL THIS LOFTY ACADEMIC TALK ISN'T LOST ON TIMBERLAKE. "IT MIGHT BE BETTER IF IT WASN'T SUCH A SPECTACLE," HE SAYS QUIETLY ABOUT THE UBERGLITZY, MISSION IMPOSSIBLE-ESQUE STAGE SHOW THAT THE GROUP WILL SOON UNDERTAKE. "MAYBE PEOPLE WOULD RESPECT IT MORE."_

 _Justin stopped reading as Chris indignantly demanded, “What does he mean, ‘not-exactly macho?’ I’m as macho as they come, baby! Especially when I’m ‘doing things with my hands.’” He made air-quotes as he spoke, and seemed to be trying to thrust his hips suggestively, only slightly foiled by the fact that he was sitting at the breakfast table with a plate of eggs and toast in front of him._

 _JC choked on his orange juice. “You did not just say that, man,” he sputtered, helpless with laughter._

Chris grinned back at him. “I did.” He winked and leered at JC across the table. “Hey, C, wanna play ‘boys doing things with our hands’ together?”

 _To Justin’s great surprise, JC turned bright red. Chris smirked at him lasciviously. “How’s about we engage in some ‘anti-macho activities,’ baby?”_

 _“Shut up,” JC mumbled, his eyes fixed on his glass of juice like it was suddenly the most important thing in the entire world._

 _Justin exchanged glances with Lance. Did he know about this? Lance shrugged and took a bite of toast, chewing thoughtfully._

 _“Well, I’m feeling a little ‘off in my masculinity’ this fine morning, so I’m gonna go take a nap to try and recover,” Chris said, pushing away from the table and standing up. “You coming, JC?” And again Justin was surprised, because JC nodded and got to his feet. He left with Chris, ruefully meeting Justin’s eyes as Chris dragged him away._

 _Huh._

 _“Did I miss something here? Is there something y’all aren’t telling me?” He looked accusingly at Lance, who was flipping through the old issue of_ Rolling Stone _with Joey._

 _“Hey, I’m just here for the zillion nubile women,” Joey said, laughing as he, too, rose from the breakfast table. He grabbed the last chocolate muffin. “Roll-out’s in an hour. You know they’re not taking a nap. You figure it out. See you guys later.” He turned back when he got to the door. “No overtly sexual lyrics? Did he even listen to_ Space Cowboy _?”_

 _Justin snorted with amusement, then frowned. He hated the whole diss about them not playing their own instruments and are they gay and all the other things that were said about boybands. He hated that Chris felt the need to wear a hat with_ *NSuck _emblazoned across the front of it on_ TRL _to show that they could laugh at themselves. He didn’t want to laugh at himself. He hated the word “boyband.” He should have left the stupid magazine where he found it, although really, the actual article itself hadn’t been that bad._

 _He looked up to find Lance regarding him fondly. He ducked his head, feeling slightly silly. “I know, I know.”_

 _“Justin, not everyone thinks that way.”_

 _“I know, I just want-” Justin broke off in frustration. He just wanted respect, he wanted his peers and the critics and the whole damned music industry to take them seriously, to take him seriously. Most of the time he didn’t give it a second thought, because who had time to think these days? They were way too busy for that, and the roller coaster ride they were on seemed always on the verge of leaping off the track and sending them crashing down onto the pavement below if he didn’t hold on tight enough. But he wasn’t stupid, none of them were, and it was like a constant itch that he couldn’t reach, knowing the kind of things that were being said about them behind their backs, and sometimes right to their faces._

 _“I know. Sometimes I wonder just how successful you have to be for that shit to go away,” Lance said._

 _“Well, apparently more successful than anyone in the history of the damn world isn’t quite enough,” Justin said peevishly. He was tired and it was early in the morning and he couldn’t remember where they were or where they were going next. He desultorily scraped at the sugar in the bottom of his cereal bowl, until Lance pulled the spoon out of his hand._

 _“Come on. Let’s get ready to go. We can spy on Chris and JC today. I think this may be something new.” Lance tugged him to his feet._

 _Justin let himself be tugged. He was curious about Chris and JC, and he thought he might be a little annoyed about it as well. That could just be a combination of the early hour and the magazine, though. He’d have to let that resolve itself before he said anything to Chris._

*

Lance listens to the playback, fuming as JC’s voice spits in his ear. Justin thinks he’s so clever, thinks he’s disguised what’s going on in this song, hidden it under discordant rhymes and sharp beats. Maybe the other guys have it figured out, and maybe they don’t, but Lance isn’t stupid.

And it pisses him off that Justin thinks he is.

He looks up to find Chris’s eyes on him. “Get over it, Bass. It’s a good song.”

“Fuck off,” Lance tells him coldly as he yanks the headphones away from his ears. He tells himself he’d be better off not to engage, because Chris isn’t really the one he’s got the problem with, and if he expends all his anger arguing about it with Chris, he won’t have any left for Justin.

Well, okay, that’s not true, but, still.

Of course it’s not that easy. It never is with Chris.

“No, I don’t think I will fuck off, Lance. It’s a good song. Leave him alone. JC and I like it,” Chris says flatly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Lance.

And the tone of Chris’s voice, so implacable, so adamant, like there’s no room for discussion, enrages Lance still further. “No, he doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to use-”

And just like that, Chris is up in his face. “He’s not using anything, you ass. He’s _dealing_. Shit happened, he’s not over it, he’s stuck here with your morose ass, and he’s trying to _deal._ ” And then just as quickly, Chris backs off. He looks as if he’s sorry he said as much as he did. “Just-God, I am so fucking sick of the drama around here. I’m so sick of your _shit_.” His face twists in frustration.

And Justin’s not here to intervene this time, he and JC and the sound engineer are off somewhere eating sandwiches, and Joey’s picking up Briahna from school and it’s just Chris and Lance. Lance is suddenly glad this is happening now. There’s no one around to tell them not to do this. He faces Chris, determined to have it out once and for all.

“I swear to God Chris, if you say ‘I told Justin this wouldn't work,’ I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Chris wants drama, he’ll give him drama.

“As if you ever were, anyway.” And that hurts so much, is so unfair, that Lance can barely breathe. Chris doesn’t seem to care. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this again, Lance, waiting for us to get back together?” he asks, almost conversationally. He’s deceptively calm, but Lance knows better. He knows Chris.

“I’d guess just about as long as the rest of us have, Chris,” Lance snarls, his skin flushed with adrenaline. He will not allow Chris to guilt him into apologizing for anything. “It’s not my fault-”

“Bullshit. I’m really so sick of hearing you say that, Lance, you have no fucking idea. I told you-”

“Yeah, Chris, you told us. You always told us. Maybe if you hadn’t been so eager to tell us, so goddamned determined that it was going to be a problem, it wouldn’t have been. Maybe we could have dealt with things better if you’d been, I don’t know, _supportive_ , instead of always shaking your fucking head and prophesizing disaster all over the damn place.” And he’s wanted to say that for years, and he has no idea why he never has.

“Are you putting this on me, Lance? Because if you’re putting this on me-” Chris’s hands are balled into fists, and Lance thinks it he might get hit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s thought that.

“Do you think we fell apart all by ourselves? Do you think things happened the way they did in a fucking vacuum?” Lance demands incredulously. Because they didn’t, and Chris knows that very well.

Chris shakes his head like he can’t believe Lance is being so deliberately obtuse. “You were too young, and too wrapped up in each other, and my God, Lance, look at the way we lived back then, it was fucking insane, no one could have handled that, let alone two stupid kids who’d never been in a relationship before and who were convinced theirs was a love for the ages.” And Chris sounds so cynical when he says that, and it’s not the first time, and Lance feels a stab of sorrow for him. Lance may be cynical now, but Chris always has been, and that’s just sad.

And is that what they were? Just dumb kids? It _was_ a love for the ages, at least they had thought it was. Lance was never going to want anyone but Justin. It was inconceivable that they would ever end. He’d felt like all of it, the fame, the craziness, the power, would last forever. He’d known it couldn’t, of course, that kind of thing never did, but he’d desperately wanted it to. And he’d thought, at the very least, that when it was over, at the _very_ least, he’d still have Justin. “You and JC-”

“Me and JC were only ever fooling around. Me and JC were never ‘in love.’” And Lance can see the finger quotes, even though Chris doesn’t make them. “But you two, you were like our very own boyband version of Ross and Rachael, only without the fun parts.” Chris’s voice is weary now, as if it’s just all too much to bear, and that’s totally unfair.

“You didn’t help, Chris. Do you know how much that hurt Justin?” He remembers the wounded bewilderment in Justin’s eyes sometimes when he looked at Chris back then. Chris has the grace to look a little ashamed at Lance’s words. “And something tells me you’re not being a big ball of encouragement this time, either.” And that startles Lance into shutting up for a minute. Does he really think there’s a this time? He backtracks over everything Chris said earlier. “What do you mean, he hasn’t gotten over it?” he asks slowly.

“Just what I said. He’s tried, and maybe you’ve noticed how well that’s worked out?” Chris watches him with sharp eyes.

“He walked away, Chris. He left. It was his choice.” And as far as Lance is concerned, that’s the bottom line.

“You know, Lance, I’m not going to get into a thing here with you about whose fault it really was, and who did what to who.” Chris throws up his hands and starts to move toward the door. “It happened a long time ago, and maybe he hasn’t gotten over it, but he’s moved on.” He pauses, hand on the doorknob, and sends a mocking smile in Lance’s direction. “I would suggest you do the same, except there’re a lot of pretty boys in LA and Vegas who could probably testify that you have, indeed, moved on.”

“So? That’s my business, Chris, _my_ life, and-”

“And I’m not arguing with that. Do whatever you want, you’re going to anyway. But in case you haven’t noticed, Lance, this song,” and he pointed to the soundboard for emphasis, “This song isn’t the only song Justin’s written for you.” And with that he’s gone, the door slamming behind him, leaving Lance with nothing to say, and no one to say it to.

*

 _The bus rumbled down the Interstate, on it’s way to whatever city they were heading towards next. Justin still hadn’t gotten around to asking anyone where they were going, but he figured he’d find out when they got there. He had more important things to think about this morning._

 _He sprawled on the big leopard print couch, his eyes half-closed, watching Chris and JC through his eyelashes. They were engaged in a silent battle over Grand Theft Auto, neither one of them saying a word, just furiously working their controls. Justin nudged Lance with his shoulder. Lance, who had been dozing with his head on that same shoulder, grunted in annoyance._

 _“Shh,” Justin hissed in his ear. Lance batted at Justin’s head._

 _“What?” he croaked sleepily._

 _“Look at them.” He nodded in Chris and JC’s direction._

 _“What am I supposed to be seeing, Justin?” Lance yawned, big and wide, right in Justin’s face._

 _“Dude, you’re so sleepy today,” Justin said, momentarily distracted from his mission. He smiled down at Lance’s bleary eyes._

 _“Well, if someone hadn’t kept me awake half the damn night,” Lance started._

 _“You’re not really gonna bitch about that, are you?” Justin’s smile broadened as a light flush crept across Lance’s cheeks._

 _“Okay, no, I’m not.” Lance grinned back at him. “But I am gonna bitch if you don’t let me sleep right now.”_

 _“Okay, you sleep. I’ll keep an eye on Chris and JC.” He nodded at the two on the other side of the bus, still locked in combat._

 _“Fine, you do that. Wake me up when we get to-” Lance blinked. “Where are we going again?”_

 _“Beats the hell out of me, man.” Justin shrugged, and Lance closed his eyes and settled back in against Justin’s side. Justin felt his eyes start to droop, too, lulled by the rhythm of the wheels of the bus on the highway. He and Lance really hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. His lips curved into a satisfied smile at the memory._

 _Anthony was bitching that load-in was hard enough without Kirkpatrick getting in the way, and why weren’t they at the hotel instead of under his feet making trouble. Smiling apologetically, JC hooked an arm around Chris’s neck and hauled him away. He didn’t go quietly, but he did go, and that seemed good enough for Anthony._

 _Lance was off somewhere, probably on the phone, or maybe with Joey, and that was fine, they weren’t attached at the hip or anything. Justin was bored, and they didn’t have anything to do for at least an hour. He could find something to do on his own for once. He could spy on JC and Chris all by himself._

 _Maybe he should explore the venue. He didn’t usually get to see beyond the dressing rooms and the rabbit warren of corridors and offices and catering and showers and make-up and wardrobe storage areas they normally inhabited. There might be cool stuff to see if he opened a few doors and peeked inside._

 _He hit pay dirt on the seventh door. It was dark and he really couldn’t see what the room was used for, except that right now it was being used for sex._

 _The kind of sex where JC had Chris pinned up against the wall and Chris’s jeans were around his knees and Justin didn’t want to even think about where JC had his hand and what he was doing with it._

 _Chris didn’t even seem to notice Justin was there, but JC did. He turned his head towards the door and growled, “Get the fuck out, Justin.”_

 _Justin had never heard that tone from JC before, but he reacted instinctively, finding himself out in the corridor with the door closed behind him before he even thought about it._

 _So, he was right. The more he thought about it, the less he understood it. So he did what he always did when he didn’t understand something--he asked Chris._

 _“Why is it okay for you and JC to be together, but even after all this time, you still act like me and Lance are going to crash and burn and somehow ruin your life?” The direct approach pretty much always worked best with Chris, as long as you were ready to hear the answer._

 _“JC and I aren’t together.” Justin raised his eyebrows at that. “Not the way you and Lance are,” Chris went on. “We’re just having fun.”_

 _“Oh, like that doesn’t have the potential to blow up in our faces, is that what you’re saying?” Justin fought to keep his voice low, because everyone else was already asleep, and the last thing they needed was a group discussion about this in the middle of Highway 104, or wherever the hell they were._

 _“Pretty much, yeah.” Chris sighed impatiently. “I know, I know, it’s true love forever, or some such shit, and I’m a dick.” Chris held up a hand to forestall Justin’s protests. “May I remind you that things are a hell of a lot more complicated than you like to make them out to be?”_

 _Justin didn’t say anything. Chris scrutinized his face, then nodded. “Yeah, I thought so.” He stood up and turned to go towards the bunk area. “You let me know when you’ve figured out what to do about Britney Jean. Then we’ll talk.”_


	14. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Letters: a:** a symbol usually written or printed representing a speech sound and constituting a unit of an alphabet **b:** a direct or personal written or printed message addressed to a person or organization **c:** a written communication

_Lance wasn’t snooping, he really wasn’t. It couldn’t be called snooping when everyone’s shit was jumbled together all over the fucking bus and Lance couldn’t find his damn Palm Pilot. “Goddammit,” he muttered. “Look at all this crap. How in the hell am I supposed to find anything in here?”_

 _He rifled through stacks of magazines and video game cartridges and CDs and hoodies and DVDs and socks and notebooks and t-shirts and paperback books and empty Coke cans and piles of orange peels and apple cores and candy bar wrappers and shit! How did Justin and JC and Chris live like this? And how had his Palm ended up over here, anyway? He threw a stray notebook across the bus in frustration. A piece of paper, pink paper, slid out of it and fluttered to the floor as the notebook landed in front of the bathroom door. On the chance that Chris had been the last one in the bathroom this morning, leaving water all over the floor that was probably seeping out from under the door, Lance went to rescue whoever’s notebook he’d tossed._

 _As he bent to pick it up, he reached to retrieve the piece of pink paper that had fallen out of it at the same time. He glanced at it casually, meaning to place it back between the pages of the notebook, which on closer inspection turned out to be Justin’s._

 _He recognized Britney’s handwriting. He really, really didn’t mean to read it. But it was right there, in his hand, and he let his eyes skim over the words._

 _It was a letter, written to Justin. There was no date on it. It looked as if it had been folded and unfolded dozens of times. Lance looked around the deserted bus. He thought about what his mother would say about reading things not meant for his eyes. He smoothed the page out on top of the kitchen table and started to read._

Dear Justin,

Hey, sweetie, I miss you. Things are so crazy right now!! J, did you talk to Lance yet? I really really want to do it again Justin. Don’t you? I know you do, you said you did lots of times. So why don’t you ask him, I bet he’d say yes. He liked it that one time in Hawiaii, you know he did. And I wouldn’t feel so guilty about everything, you know? I mean, if he were part of it again.

Please?

See ya next month,

Luv ya, Britney

 _Lance stared at the letter. He picked it up and turned it over, but there was nothing written on the back, nothing to tell him what it meant, or even when it had been written. He read it again, but it didn’t make any more sense the second time than it did the first. He stared unseeingly out the bus window at the venue parking lot, confused, and not sure what to think about the conclusions his mind was busy jumping to._

 _Startled out of his reverie by the sound of a car horn, Lance checked his watch. He’d been out here long enough that Anthony was going to send somebody to drag his ass back if he didn’t hurry. He’d been very specific about how much time he’d given Lance to come out here. Anthony didn’t care about Lance’s Palm Pilot, he cared about the schedule. Carefully, Lance folded the letter up and tucked it into his back pocket. Then he gazed around the messy bus, wondering what else he’d find if he looked hard enough. He shook his head. Not going there. He still had to find his Palm. There would be time to think later. Maybe._

 _After finding his Palm tucked down between the couch cushions, Lance followed Lonnie back inside, back to the Toy Room. He was lucky, Justin was preoccupied with the weights that went everywhere with him. Lance settled himself into a corner of the couch, opened his Palm, and started tapping furiously on it. It was as good a way as any to avoid thinking over the implications of what he'd just read._

 _After awhile, Joey quit banging on the drums set up in the corner of the room, and plopped down on the couch next to Lance. “Watcha doin’?”_

 _“Just writing an e-mail to Dad about Free Lance,” Lance answered absently. He tapped out a few more letters, then sighed. “Hurry up and wait, sometimes I think that’s all we do.” He looked around. “Is there food yet?”_

 _“What, you didn’t notice when they set it up? Where’s your head at, man?” Joey nudged him companionably._

 _Lance spotted the small table in the corner with the drinks and the candy bars piled high. “Right. Well, I’m going over to the Quiet Room for some real food.” He stood up. “You coming?”_

 _“Sure, I could use a sandwich. You wanna wait for J to get done with his workout?” Joey rolled his eyes a little, the way he did when the subject of Justin’s relentless working out came up._

 _“Nah. Let’s just go.” Lance was acutely aware of the neatly folded letter in the back pocket of his jeans. Ignoring both Justin sweating and grunting in the corner and Joey’s curious look, he headed toward the door._

 _Lance was actually sorry that they weren’t leaving town after the concert. He usually much preferred sleeping in a hotel with Justin, as opposed to a bus with Joey and Steve. Well, that was because he wasn’t stupid. But he had no idea what to say to Justin about the letter from Britney. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, except what other possible explanation could there be? Justin and Britney were fucking._

 _So, later, long after the show, after they’d showered, eaten, had a few drinks with the others, after a few laughs with Kelly, who was visiting Joey for a couple of days, after they’d gone back to their rooms to get ready for bed, Lance leaned against the open bathroom doorway and said, “I’m curious, Justin. Is it not supposed to make a difference because she’s a girl? Is that what you were thinking?”_

*

Lance is happy enough living at Joey’s house. It’s not like he’s going to be in Orlando long enough to justify buying a house of his own here again. Kelly is one of his best friends in the whole world, and he adores Briahna, that goes without saying.

But it would be nice to have an office of his own here. Somewhere to set up his laptop besides his bedroom or the kitchen table, or balanced on his knees while he sprawls on the overstuffed couch in the family room. Joey’s house is huge, of course, but it’s full of rooms like movie theaters and game rooms and music rooms and entertainment centers. Lance wouldn’t be surprised one day to turn a corner and find himself in a ballroom, or a room with an honest-to-God stage in it. Or maybe a bowling alley. There aren’t a lot of rooms with desks and printers and fax machines. There’s Joey’s office, of course, and Kelly’s, but Lance hates to intrude. Not to mention, there’s no room to spread out in either of their offices. Kelly’s is full of flower arrangements and decorative doodads that even Lance can’t identify, and Joey’s, well, good luck to whoever needs to find the printer or the fax machine under all the crap.

So Lance is sitting out by the pool, under a huge red and white striped umbrella, checking his e-mail. His mom writes to tell him about his dad’s ulcer, and what the doctor wants to try next. Stacy has sent him a couple of recent pictures from Leyton’s piano recital, and Lance smiles at the silly smirk on his niece’s face as she gets up from the piano and waves at the camera.

There’s an e-mail from Beth, who he still keeps in touch with, although sporadically. She found some files the other day, and there’s stuff in there she thinks Lance might want, so she’s going to send it along. She’s attached a list, and she’s scanned some of the pictures and papers to show him what’s there.

And Lance freezes, and stares at one of the pages. It’s not important, it’s a list of figures and CD sales projections from a million years ago, but in the margins, in the margins are several small sketches of the letters JRT. Some of the drawings look like the necklace Justin used to wear, the big blingy diamond one. A few of the sketches include the R, and several more don’t. And Lance can remember sitting in some boring meeting, before they learned the price of not paying attention to every detail, he and Justin doodling in the margins of the paperwork they were barely interested in, trying to come up with a design for the tattoo Justin wanted on his leg, completely ignoring Chris’s taunts about how lame tattooing your own initials on your own leg was.

And it doesn’t hurt so much, to remember that. It’s a good memory, for one, and for another, thinking about Justin doesn’t always hurt as much as it used to. Lance has no idea why, but he’s willing to go along with it. Contrary to what Chris and Joey may think, he doesn’t really enjoy wallowing all the time. He’s willing to take a break from it every now and again.

He goes on to the next e-mail, and the next. There’s a group mailing from Jive, discussing the possible lineup of songs for the album. They’ve recorded more songs than they need for one CD, because JC and Justin apparently spent the past year writing nonstop, mostly songs for the group, it seems. Chris, too, came back to them with songs he’d been writing. His songs are a little darker than JC and Justin’s, but they’re good, and Lance is hoping more than one of them ends up on the CD. He’s not above admitting that Chris deserves it.

Lance sighs and gets up to grab some fresh coffee from the kitchen. It’s 8:30 on a Saturday morning, and he’s the only one awake. He stirs more sugar into his coffee and takes a thoughtful sip. Chris has treated him exactly the same as before they had their big fight, and Lance is grateful for that. He wishes things would warm up a little more, but he thinks maybe that’s going to have to be his responsibility. Chris has never believed in love, not the forever kind, and except for Joey and Kelly, he’s really not had any reason to. He’s not seen a lot of successful long-lasting relationships in his life, and Lance knows that. He loves Chris, and it’s okay.

Lance sits back down under the umbrella, and sips his coffee, enjoying the cool breeze blowing off the pool. He swears it’s very nearly a big enough body of water to generate its own weather system. If he squints, he can almost see clouds forming out over the center of the deep end.

He finishes reading the e-mail from Jive. They seem to be particularly enthusiastic about one of Justin’s songs in particular, going on at length about the possibility of it being a single. It’s called _Only a Glimpse,_ and it’s the one Lance has thought from the beginning is one of the most beautiful songs he’s ever heard. The bass is absolutely gorgeous, and it’s a true pleasure for Lance to sing his part.

And he knows Justin wrote it for him, and he knows that’s what Chris was talking about, and that knowledge is something Lance holds close to his heart. It brings him joy, undiluted by unhappiness or bitterness for a change. The song is his treasure.

*

 _Justin’s head shot up from where he was spitting toothpaste in the sink, and he met Lance’s eyes in the mirror. He didn’t have to see the crumpled pink paper in Lance’s hand to know what he was talking about. He decided his best bet was to go on the defensive. “Where did you find that?” he demanded, and nodded at the letter from Britney as he turned around to face Lance._

 _Lance smiled, the smile that JC always compared to a barracuda’s smile whenever it made an appearance in interviews with reporters who tried to get them to admit that pop music was lame. It was a smile that had only been directed at Justin on a very few occasions, and each time it was, Justin had been very sorry._

 _“Were you looking through my things?” Justin tried to scowl threateningly, but it didn’t work. Lance didn’t seem to be properly intimidated, unfortunately._

 _“Your things? You mean the shit that was strewn all over that pigsty you call a bus? I was looking for my Palm, which I have no idea how it even got on your bus, but that’s not the point. Nor is the point how I found this,” and here Lance rattled the paper rather ferociously in Justin’s face, “in that mess. This point is, I did find it, and what the fuck is going on here, Justin?”_

 _“Now Lance, calm down.” Justin tried his best soothing voice, but Lance wasn’t noticeably soothed. His normally unflappable demeanor had given way to flashing eyes and a clenched jaw. “Okay, poor choice of words,” Justin admitted as Lance glared at him._

 _And Justin realized that underneath all his bravado, Lance was hurt and confused, and then Justin felt guilty as hell. He hadn’t expected it to go like this. It had never occurred to him that Lance would find out before Justin had a chance to tell him. He put down his toothbrush and cautiously advanced on his fuming boyfriend. Lance held the pink letter in front of him like a shield, and Justin reached out and took it gently out of his hand. Lance blinked rapidly several times and cleared his throat. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Justin said softly._

 _“Are you and Brit-are you, you know, sleeping together?”_

 _Justin sighed and took hold of Lance’s hand. “C’mere and sit down. Come on, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He led Lance to the edge of his bed and they sat down side by side._

 _Lance looked at him. “Start talking, Justin.”_

 _“Well, you remember that time in Hawaii, right?” Lance rolled his eyes. “Right,” Justin said hastily. He shrugged nonchalantly and gave Lance his best winning smile. “Brit wants to do it again.”_

 _Lance frowned at him, skepticism written all over his face. “Why? What’s with Brit and the yen for threesomes? And how come she never says anything to me about it? I see her almost as often as you do, Justin.”_

 _Justin bit his lower lip. This was the tricky part. He didn’t want to lie to Lance, exactly. “Do you remember, back in Hawaii, you asked me if I missed being with girls?”_

 _“I’m not senile, you know. I remember a lot of things. And yes, I remember asking you that.” His face softened and he looked searchingly at Justin. “You were awfully young when we started, J. I know you didn’t get a chance to do much, you know, have a lot of experience, before we got together.”_

 _Justin nodded. “Neither did you, really.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Britney and I spend a lot of time together. We-we’ve always been friends, since the Mouse Club. We’re, um, I guess we’re just really close.” He waited, but Lance didn’t say anything, just kept watching him with wary eyes. “I really care about her.”_

 _Lance sighed and looked down at their joined hands. “And you’re fucking her.”_

 _Well, Justin might not have phrased it as bluntly as that, but, yeah. “Sometimes. I-it’s not got anything to do with us, with you, you gotta believe me. It’s just, well, they throw us together, all the time. And sometimes, it just happens.”_

 _Lance pulled his hand away. “First of all Justin, it doesn’t just happen. You and her decide to make it happen. Every time.” Lance sounded more irritated than mad, and Justin took great encouragement from that. “Secondly, I don’t even want to know how long this has been going on. That letter doesn’t look like you just got it yesterday. Thirdly, when did you become such a chickenshit?”_

 _“What do you mean, chickenshit,” Justin asked indignantly, choosing to ignore the rest of what Lance said._

“Well, why didn’t you ask me? If I hadn’t found that letter, were you ever even going to say anything?” Lance sounded honestly curious.

 _Justin wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t sure why he’d waited. Brit had been bugging him for several months to see if Lance would want to do it again. She’d really liked watching them together, she said. Part of him didn’t want her to, didn’t want to share Lance with her. Mostly, though, the whole thing was incredibly hot and of course he wanted to do it again._

 _There was a tiny part, though, almost too small for him to acknowledge, that wanted to keep Britney all to himself. He didn’t like to think about that, and so he said, “Well, I know you didn’t like it the last time.” He smiled as Lance raised his eyebrows. “Well, okay, I know you didn’t want to do it again. And I didn’t know what you’d say, or if you’d be mad, and okay, you’re right, I’m a big chickenshit.”_

 _To his relief, Lance chuckled a little at that, then got up and wandered around the room, randomly picking things up and putting them back down, frowning thoughtfully at Justin’s Gameboy and his pack of gum and the sunglasses he’d just bought two days ago and the book Lance was using to teach himself how to be ruthless at business. He finally stood still, put the book down, and pointed a finger at Justin._

 _“Okay. But from now on, Justin, it only happens if I’m there, too. No more just her and you by yourselves. If you guys are stuck alone together and bored, rent a movie.”_


	15. Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Canada:** country in North America, a dominion of the Commonwealth of Nations

“It’s a destination premiere,” Joey says. “The movie’s set in Toronto, and they shot it there, too.”

Lance actually knows this. He rolls his eyes at Joey. “Yeah, Joe, I know. I know where it is, and why it’s there. I even know when he’s going.” The one thing he doesn’t know, the one thing he’s not gong to ask, is _who’s_ going to be with Justin in Toronto for the premiere of his latest movie, the one he finished shooting last summer.

Justin and Cameron broke up in Toronto, while they were filming a remake of _Moonlighting,_ one of Lance’s favorite TV show from the 80’s. Lance loves Hollywood remakes of old TV shows, but this is one he might just have to skip. It doesn’t help that the setting was inexplicably changed from LA to Toronto. No one’s been able to explain the reasoning behind that to Lance’s satisfaction. Lance doesn’t really see Justin as the Bruce Willis type, either, but he’s heard through the Hollywood grapevine that Bruce is pleased as punch with the casting. Lance thinks it was stunt casting, and apparently the strain of working together had been the final nail in the coffin of Justin and Cameron’s relationship. He assumes that Cameron will also be at the premiere, the movie is expected to be a big hit, and Lance really doesn’t want to think about it any more than that.

He knows what else is going to come up, though, so he has to ask. “Are you going?” He can tell from Joey’s body language that the answer is yes, but he waits to see what he has to say.

Joey nods. “I think we should, Lance. It’ll be good for the group, good promo for the album if we’re all there.” He looks like he’s bracing himself for a fight as he says the words. Lance is tempted, but he’s awfully tired of fighting.

“You’re right, you guys should go.” And he hopes that Joey can just leave it there.

“Lance,” Joey hesitates, and Lance readies his arguments in his head. “Lance, you should come, too.”

“Joey, I just can’t. I’ve thought about it, really I have. I just don’t think I can do it. And really, how uncomfortable would that make everyone? The last thing Justin needs is me there, too.” And that last is almost a question, because he still doesn’t know if Cameron is going for sure.

Joey eyes him doubtfully. “I guess.”

“Are all three of you going?” Lance asks.

Joey nods. “You know JC, all about the support. And Chris thinks it’s gonna be hard for J, so he wants to make sure he’s got a _support system_ in place.” Chris and Joey and their finger quotes. It’s a habit they both should have dropped years ago, although Lance laughs at Joey now. As if Lynn isn’t all the support system Justin needs for most situations.

And then Lance thinks about his own mother, and how sometimes depending on your mother isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and he wonders whose side Lynn was on, Justin’s or Cameron’s.

The day before they all leave for Canada is their last day in the studio. There’s only a few loose ends to tie up, and they don’t all really need to be here, but it’s actually turning into a kind of celebration. They’ve done it again, and Lance knows the CD is going to rock. He can just tell, it’s going to be huge. The songs are amazing, and they’ve never sounded better, their voices more mature, entwined around each other like smoke rising lazily from a fire, different hues blending to make one awesome sound.

Justin grins at them all over the soundboard as the last note fades away. He high-fives both JC and the sound engineer. Chris whoops loudly and slaps Johnny on the back. “Get ready to make some more money off us, John my man,” he says, and Johnny smiles.

“I’m ready, Chris, believe me.” Johnny turns to Lance as Chris and JC hug.

“You okay, man?” Johnny asks.

Lance nods. “Yeah, John, I am. I’m okay.” And he is. He’s surprised as hell at that, but he’s made it through the recording process relatively intact, and in fact, he may feel better now than he did when they started, which is something he never expected. It hasn’t been easy, but he did it. They did it.

And suddenly, amidst the laughter, Justin is there, right there looking straight at him and saying, “You’re not coming to Toronto, right?”

“Um, no. I mean right, I’m not going.” And Lance stares at Justin, can’t look away from what he sees in his eyes.

“Are you going to LA? Or maybe Vegas this time?” And this seems like a confrontation of some sort, and it’s nothing Lance is prepared for.

“Uh, I hadn’t given it much thought, Justin, but maybe, I might, yeah.” And that’s a lie, because he’s definitely been thinking about going to LA.

“Which?”

“Which what? LA or Vegas? I don’t know.” Lance shrugs.

“No, which one of your usual hookups are you gonna be fucking this time?’’

And Lance doesn’t believe what he just heard. “Are you kidding me, Justin? You did not just say that.” They stand there glaring at each other.

And something about their posture, their demeanor, must catch the others’ attention, because JC comes over to them, smiling uncertainly. He rubs his hand up Justin’s arm and grips his shoulder, giving it a slight shake. “C’mon, J. Johnny has Clive on the phone. He’s pretty excited and he wants to talk to you.” He glances between the two of them, his expression wary. Lance doesn’t blame him. Justin seems to have completely lost his mind.

And Justin’s not backing down, so Lance says furiously, “Well, I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll be sure and let you know how it goes after we get back!” And he turns and stalks away, dismissing Justin from his mind, except that he’s aware of Justin’s eyes boring holes in the back of his head for the rest of the afternoon.

In the end, Lances goes to Mississippi for the weekend.

*

 _“Are you insane? Have you completely lost your mind, Justin?” Lance looked at Justin in the mirror as he washed his hands, his left eyebrow climbing his forehead in disbelief._

 _And there was something about that raised eyebrow, that tone of voice, half-annoyed and half mocking, that pretty much sent Justin right over the edge. His hands clenched into fists and he spit out, “No, I’m not insane! But you must be out of your mind if you think for one minute I’m buying your bullshit.”_

 _Lance reached for a towel, still calm. “Bullshit? What’re you talking about?”_

 _Justin was livid. Why couldn’t Lance just admit it? “Joey. You and Joey.”_

 _Lance’s eyes widened and he stopped drying his hands, standing there with the towel dangling uselessly from his fingers. He turned, confusion on his face. Probably wondering how Justin figured it out. “Me and Joey what?” he asked. “And I’d be very, very careful what I say here, Justin, if I were you.” His voice was low, dangerous._

 _Justin had just flown in from LA. They only had a few days before Lance and Joey left again, this time to film in Chicago, and they needed to get them into the studio. Justin was so exhausted he could barely see straight and he felt raw and exposed and guilty. But he knew he wasn’t wrong. “In Toronto. The two of you.”_

 _“The two of us were shooting a movie in Toronto, if that’s what you mean.” Lance glared at him, obviously furious, starting to dry his hands again, scrubbing at them angrily._

 _“God, Lance! I know what you guys did! Don’t tell me no!” Justin shouted, as Lance shook his head in denial._

 _“I don’t know where you’re getting this, but you really need to shut up now.” Lance clutched the towel in his fist, his knuckles white._

 _“I’ve seen it. I’ve been watching it for years. He’s always hated us together, Lance, and that’s why, he wants you, and you were in Canada with him, and I know that’s what you did!”_

 _Lance frowned, like he couldn’t figure out what Justin meant. “Justin, this is Joey you’re talking about. Joey. Your friend. He would never-”_

 _“Bullshit! And so would you!” Justin got in Lance’s face and let all his anger and fear and guilt pour out. “After that guy in Sundance, I know you would. You did!_

 _Lance’s face darkened and his voice was deadly. “Fuck you, Justin. That wasn’t-”_

 _“It was! Don’t lie to me, Lance. And don’t lie about Joey, either,” Justin yelled._

 _“You ass! Joey and I were in Toronto shooting a movie! A movie, Justin. There wasn’t time for whatever it is your feeble mind is telling you happened. Shit.” Lance broke off, breathing hard. “I’ve been busting my ass, flying in and out, trying to record, trying to do the movie-I’m producing it, too, you fucker. Do you know how tired I am? And this is what I get? Stupid accusations from an insane boyfriend? And on top of that, while I was gone, you let Wade sing for me!”_

 _“Well, it’s not exactly a convenient time for you to run off and play producer-boy! You weren’t here, someone had to sing it.” It was true, there wasn’t time to wait for Lance, and Wade was more than willing to do it._

 _“Jesus, Justin, I’m trying to establish myself here, so that I have something to do when this is all over. Do you think this is gonna last forever?” Lance threw the towel in the sink in disgust._

 _“Why shouldn’t it?” Justin demanded._

 _“For you, maybe. I’m not gonna be doing a solo album Justin, trust me on that,” Lance stated flatly._

 _Justin fumed at Lance’s words, at the idea that he didn’t have faith in them lasting. “Is that why you’re off in Sundance, blowing publicists?”_

 _“Fuck you!”_

 _“No, fuck you!” Justin shouted. “You’re a slut, Lance. You’d fuck anything with a big enough dick. All anybody has to do it wave it in your face and you’re on your knees so fast-”_

 _Lance was moving before Justin knew it, shoving him hard, both hands planted in the middle of his chest. Justin went stumbling back against the toilet, his arms wind-milling, knocking the picture on the wall with his hand, sending it crashing to the ground, shards of glass flying everywhere._

 _Justin wasn’t sure how he managed not to fall, but he did, his hands clutching the back of the toilet for balance. He gazed at Lance in shock. Lance was breathing hard, his fists clenched, his face red._

 _“Projecting much, Justin? And Joey and Kelly just had a baby, you asshole,” he hissed in Justin’s face. “I’m gonna do you a favor and not tell him about this. You can fucking thank me later.” And he was gone, the door slamming closed behind him. Justin heard the murmur of concerned voices out in the hallway, and he waited until they were gone before he left the bathroom, the painting of the dolphins laying broken on the floor._

*

Justin waves at the people in the bleachers, girls with cameras, waving, calling his name. “Justin! Over here, Justin!”

He smiles and waves some more. Chris is next to him, JC and Joey behind him. Some of the people in the bleachers clue in to who Justin has with him, and start screaming with delight. He hears JC and Joey laugh. Chris yells something to the crowd and the screams get louder.

Justin needs to be inside before Cameron gets here, that’s the arrangement both their publicists decided on. That way they both have equal access to red carpet time, with no attention taken away from either one of them by photographers trying to get a picture of them together, glaring at each other or spitting in each others’ faces or whatever it is the press is hoping will happen tonight.

He and Cam have talked on the phone several times about the premiere, which no one knows except his mom. They’re working out how to be friends, and they’re not doing too badly at it. Plus, they both want the movie to do well, and the last thing they need is for the premiere to get ugly. Justin doesn’t think either he or Cam would do anything unprofessional, and they’ve agreed to ignore the stupid questions the press is bound to ask. They may have broken up while making this movie, but they both worked really hard on it, and neither one of them has a desire to sabotage its chances for success.

Of course, Justin is well aware that the circumstances of their breakup is probably what will fuel the box office the most. People will want to see if any evidence of their implosion made it onto the screen.

The premiere is being held at The Bato Shoe Museum, where much of the movie’s climax was shot. Shoes were definitely integral to the plot, much to Justin’s delight at the time. They actually have a collection of celebrity shoes at the Museum, and although Justin doesn’t have a pair enshrined there, he certainly wishes he did.

“How cool is this?” he says to Chris after they finally get inside, pointing at the _All About Shoes_ exhibit. He hears cheering from outside the museum and he knows Cameron has arrived. He drags Chris into the exhibit room, gesturing around at all the shoes.

“Shit, J, they have more shoes here than you do,” Chris teases gently. Chris has been very kind to him this weekend, very careful, and it’s making Justin feel like he has a terminal illness.

“Shut up, you fucker,” Justin replies. Then Joey and JC are there, eyeballing the shoes in wonder, and Joey laughs at Justin.

“No wonder you wanted to make this movie, J. Would you look at this shit?”

Then there’s food, and drinks and saying all the right things to all the right people. Justin thinks he’s going to duck out once the movie starts. There are two theaters, but they’re small, and he really isn’t up for the scrutiny of the crowd while he watches himself on a big-ass screen.

“I’m hitting the head, then let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, handing Chris his empty beer bottle. Chris looks at the bottle, looks at Justin, opens his mouth, then closes it. He nods agreeably instead.

“I’ll find Joe and C and let them know. Meet you by that big, giant shoe over there,” he says.

Justin comes out of the men’s room just in time to literally run into Cameron, who’s heading into the ladies’ room. He reaches out a hand to steady her, and she laughs softly at him. He smiles. “How you doin’?”

“I’m great. I was just thinking about leaving early, skipping the movie.” She looks beautiful tonight, and Justin swallows.

“Me, too. I already told Chris.”

“Oh.” Cameron considers. “Then I’ll hang around a little while longer, maybe sneak out after it starts” She cocks her head and studies his face. “How are things, sweetie?”

Justin shrugs. “You know. Could be worse.” He thinks about Lance’s demeanor lately, thinks about how maybe he’s softening a bit, maybe losing some of his anger. Then he thinks about LA, and Vegas, and he shrugs again. “Could be better.”

Cameron reaches up and kisses his cheek. Justin hugs her gratefully. She pulls back and smiles at him with warm, sympathetic eyes. “I hope it works out the way you want it to, baby.”

Justin nods, unable to speak, his throat tight. Cameron gives his arm a squeeze and ducks into the bathroom. He blinks rapidly, then goes to find Chris.

*

 _Lance and Justin’s houses weren’t anywhere close to each other, certainly not within walking distance, so when Lance heard a key scrape in the front door lock without hearing a car pull into his garage, he was confused. He’d been asleep on the couch, having drifted off in front of the television, too exhausted to even go to bed. He sat up, yawning and disoriented, and there was Justin, standing in the doorway of his living room._

 _They stared at each other in silence, until Lance said, “Did you walk here, Justin?”_

 _Justin blinked, like that wasn’t at all what he expected to hear. “Um, no, JC dropped me off.” He chewed at his lower lip, staring at the floor._

 _“Planning on staying?” Lance asked dryly. Justin flushed and looked up imploringly._

 _“Can I?” he whispered._

 _Lance nodded. “Come here.” Justin crossed the room and sat down next to Lance on the couch, tipping his head wearily onto Lance’s shoulder. He sighed._

 _“I’m sorry I said those things,” Justin whispered, his voice so low Lance could barely hear him._

 _“I know,” Lance reassured him. He did know. He sighed, too. “Things are just crazy, and sometimes I’m not sure what’s going on, either.” He would love Justin forever, Lance knew this, but some days that really didn’t seem to help much. Not when he was this exhausted and overwhelmed by the everything else in his life. Sundance proved that._

 _Justin wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist and held on tight. “I love you,” he whispered, sounding almost desperate._

 _“I love you too, Justin,” Lance said softly, and he pulled back, looking into Justin’s eyes. “I do.”_

 _Justin nodded. “I know.” His kiss was tentative, and sad._

 _“It’s okay, J, we’ll be okay,” Lance murmured into Justin’s mouth. They stretched out on Lance’s couch, kissing with the luxury of time they didn’t have. Lance pushed his schedule out of his mind, didn’t let himself think about what time he had to get up in the morning, all the things he had to accomplish tomorrow._

 _They eventually shed their clothes, Justin’s skin warm and sweaty against Lance’s. Lance licked Justin’s neck, chased a drop of sweat down his chest, sucked it off Justin’s nipple. Justin moaned. “Please.”_

 _Lance coaxed Justin to his knees, turning him around, bracing his hands on the back of the couch. “Don’t move, J. I’ve got you.”_

 _By the time Lance slid all the way home, Justin was whimpering, his voice hoarse from begging. Lance thrust gently, taking his time, one hand between Justin’s shoulder blades, holding him in place._

 _Lance made himself go slow, as slow as he could, but this was Justin, after all, and when Justin tightened around him, gasping out his name, Lance groaned and pressed his hips forward one last time, collapsing over Justin’s back, teeth sinking into his shoulder as Justin shuddered beneath him._

 _Justin wouldn’t let Lance move them into the bedroom. He whispered, “No, stay here, just stay here with me.” Lance nodded and closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep._


	16. Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Forget: a:** to lose the remembrance of **b:** be unable to think of or recall **c:** to treat with inattention or disregard **d:** to disregard intentionally **e:** forget oneself; to lose one's dignity, temper, or self-control

_“What, Justin, did you forget to call me? You couldn’t remember what room I was in? You left your phone in your other pants? What?” The angrier Lance was, the more sarcastic he got, and sometimes that made Justin want to smack him._

 _Other times, like now, it made Justin want to try and ease his way out of the room, if not the situation. “I was going to call you, Lance, really I was. But, you know, it got late, and seriously, we didn’t do anything. We were too tired, okay?”_

 _“So, if you hadn’t been tired, you would have, what, fucked without me? Is that what you’re telling me?” Lance angrily stuffed a couple of clean t-shirts in his backpack._

 _Justin grit his teeth and looked around the messy hotel room for his Gameboy. “No, we were too tired to do anything, and that’s why we didn’t call you,” Justin snapped. They were in the middle of rehearsals for the PopOdyssey tour, and Justin really wasn’t in the mood for another one of Lance’s snits about Britney. He didn’t know why it had to be so hard all the time, why Lance couldn’t just relax and let stuff happen, the way Justin did. Brit was only in New Orleans overnight. She was hanging out at home with her family and had snuck in under the press’s radar for a quick visit before the group left for LA. But Justin really had been exhausted, and they’d just talked, and fallen asleep early. It had been kind of peaceful amidst the flurry of the prep for this ridiculously massive tour, and there had been no reason to call Lance back from wherever he’d gone for the evening._

 _“So what did you do?” There was something in Lance’s voice that Justin couldn’t quite get a handle on. Something small and unsure._

 _“We talked, she’s worried about Jamie Lynn, we watched TV, we called room service, we fell asleep.” That pretty much covered it, really._

 _Lance was momentarily distracted. “What’s going on with Jamie Lynn? Is she okay?” he asked with concern. Before Justin could answer him, though, his lips tightened. “No, never mind. I’m sure she’s fine, or Britney would have told me.” He waved his hand dismissively. “So, if you guys aren’t gonna fuck, there’s no reason to call me, is that it?”_

 _“Jesus, Lance, what do you want from me? Just tell me, okay, and I’ll do it.” Justin said impatiently. The minute the words were out of his mouth, Justin knew they were a mistake, but God, he was tired._

 _“What do I want?” Lance answered, his voice seething with animosity. “I want to be good for something other than to be the admiring audience when you and the pop princess fuck. It’s lovely to watch, Justin, but it makes me feel a bit unnecessary. I mean, I try to stay out of the way, but sometimes I just can’t stop myself from touching-”_

 _Justin turned around and walked out of the room, letting the door slam as he left. JC was hurrying down the hallway towards him. “Aren’t you guys ready yet, J? The van is downstairs. Wade went on ahead with Chris and Joey.” JC flapped his arms in the direction of the hotel elevator._

 _“Fuck Wade. And don’t look at me like that, JC. Give me a fucking break here, okay?” That’s just what Justin needed, Wade on his case for being late, on top of JC looking pissed and steely-eyed with self-righteousness._

 _“Hey, don’t take it out on me if you and Lance are having another fight, asshole. Not my problem.” And JC turned toward the elevator, flinging, “Let’s go!” back over his shoulder._

 _Justin was aware that the door to his and Lance’s room had opened up behind him while JC was bitching at him. He shoved past Lance, going back inside to get his backpack, while Lance frowned down the hallway after JC’s retreating form._

 _“What’s his problem this morning?” Lance asked crossly._

 _“Apparently, we are,” Justin answered, just as the door three rooms down opened and Britney emerged, carrying her overnight bag. She smiled when she saw Lance._

 _“Mornin,’ darlin’. We missed you last night.” She smiled sweetly up at him. With her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, wearing sweat pants and no makeup, she looked like a regular girl. Justin had intimate knowledge that she was anything but._

 _A tight smile crossed Lance’s face. “Hey, Britney Jean.”_

 _“Justin said you went out last night. Did you have a good time?”_

 _“Yeah, me and Joey went out to eat,” Lance said, looking at Justin as if daring him to say anything. Justin shrugged. He knew there was nothing going on between Lance and Joey, but that didn’t mean Lance didn’t want there to be, no matter how hard he tried to convince Justin otherwise._

 _It didn’t really matter._

 _“Well, me and Justin just crashed, but we missed you anyway,” Britney said. Lance’s face softened._

 _“I wish I’d have been there, BJ. You leaving now?”_

 _“Yeah, I’m heading back home for a few more days before I get back to work.”_

 _The elevator dinged. “Come on, guys,” JC yelled at the top of his considerable lungs. Eric motioned to Britney to wait for both her own security and the next elevator. She nodded and turned to kiss Lance and Justin goodbye. She whispered something in Lance’s ear that made him duck his head, his cheeks tinged with color, and he gave her one last peck on the cheek and headed toward the elevator. Justin bent to kiss her, and she pouted up at him. “When can we get together to compare schedules? Maybe I’d better call Lance for that,” she added thoughtfully. “You always forget something.”_

 _Justin rolled his eyes. He knew their schedule just fine. “Whatever, Brit. I’ll call you. Tell your mama I said hi, and kiss Jamie Lynn for me.” He kissed her one last time and followed Lance to the elevator, which JC was holding open with one eye on his watch._

 _“Jesus, C. Chill,” Justin said wearily. JC frowned as Lance stared stonily at the lighted numbers over the door without saying a word._

 _The elevator ride down to the garage was completely silent._

*~

Lance falls back into the rhythm of tour prep as easily as if it’s been seven days instead of seven years since the last time he’s done this. That doesn’t surprise, him, really. If there’s one thing Lance is good at, it’s being in NSYNC. Now that they’ve decided on the track listing for the CD, Jive’s firing up the promotional machine, and Lance reads the schedule for the upcoming month with some trepidation. He’s forgotten how little time is allotted for sleeping when they’re in the middle of promo for an album.

Another thing he’s forgotten is how exhausting rehearsals can be. They’re not doing choreography like the old days, of course, Chris’s knees and Justin’s back won’t allow it. Lance would like to think their sense of dignity won’t allow it, either, but he knows very well they don’t have a sense of dignity when it comes to performing. Certainly Chris and Joey don’t. He’s not sure he has faith in JC’s ability to dissuade Chris from wearing some of his more disreputable outfits on stage. Lance smiles at the thought. It might be fun, at that.

But with JC and Justin being a very big part of NSYNC, there’s no way they can completely escape dancing, and Lance really doesn’t mind. It’s a good way to get in shape, if nothing else. It takes them a while to decide on a choreographer. Justin and JC have their favorites, and the other three let them sort it out. No one mentions Wade.

One of the big questions to settle is how much of their old stuff to include in the set list, and Lance finds himself fighting pretty fiercely to include _I Thought She Knew._ It’s not that the others don’t want to include it, they want to remember Robin as much as Lance does, but where to put it becomes the big question. They end up pairing it with _Only a Glimpse,_ and Lance finds himself unable to get through singing the two songs back to back without choking up. He glares at Joey, daring him to say one word, just one word, about it. Joey keeps his mouth shut, but his sympathetic smile speaks volumes.

Joey doesn’t know what he thinks he knows, but Lance finds himself watching Justin during rehearsal, the way he used to so many years ago. Justin still has complete discipline and utter concentration, staring in the mirror critically, always pushing for perfection. Lance notices he doesn’t watch the others as critically as he used to, although Lance can tell by Joey’s wary expression that he hasn’t forgotten how intense things can get on a bad day.

Lance watches Justin’s muscles work, watches them move smoothly under skin that glows with sweat, and he remembers when Justin brought that single-minded dedication to more than rehearsing and performing.

Lance won’t ever forget being the focus of that concentration, can’t let himself forget the way Justin could make the rest of the world go away with just a smile, the way he could make everything else fall away, until Lance’s whole existence was centered around where Justin was going to touch him next.

He misses that with an ache that never lets up, an ache that’s been there since Justin walked away for the last time.

During a water break, Chris announces that he wants to have another party to celebrate the beginning of tour prep. Lance thinks these days Chris would have a party to celebrate the beginning of the week, if he could convince everyone else that it was a good idea. The only objection comes, surprisingly, from Justin. It’s not an objection as much as it is just generalized bitching about Chris’s habit of supplying his party guests with crappy beer, the risk of permanent hearing loss from the decibel level he insists on keeping the music cranked to, and how stupid his friends are.

Chris has been contemplating Justin calmly all throughout this diatribe, until Justin insults his friends. The his eyes narrow and he says, his hands on his hips, “What the fuck, Timberlake. Since when are you too good for my friends?”

And Lance thinks Chris is seriously insulted, but Justin doesn’t seem to care. “Since your friends can’t keep their hands to themselves,” and oh, shit, this is about Lance.

And Chris has no idea what Justin’s talking about, and JC and Joey look equally confused. “Did someone molest you last time, Justin?” Chris asks, honestly puzzled.

“Not Justin. Me,” Lance says quietly, and everyone turns to look at him. Justin’s eyes are shuttered, but he has a spot of bright color on his cheekbones.

“You were molested?” Joey says, like he’s suddenly found himself in an alternate universe.

“No, Joey. Don’t be dumb,” Lance snaps.

“Look, just forget I said anything,” Justin mumbles. “Never mind. A party is a swell idea. I’ll be there.” And he stalks out of the rehearsal room.

“Dude, did you hook up at my party?” Chris asks curiously. He frowns, obviously thinking back. “Who was it? One of the twins? I know how you like twins, but I gotta tell you, I don’t think they’re natural blonds.” He snickers. “Well, I guess you know that now, don’t you? Which one was it, Ronnie or Donnie?”

Lance feels himself blushing, and he has no idea why. It’s nothing new for Chris to give him a hard time about his sex life. At least this time there’s no animosity, which isn’t always the case. “Um, I’m not really sure,” he admits. “The one with the tattoo on his neck.”

Chris laughs again. “The snake or the koi?”

“The koi.”

“That’s Ronnie.” Chris frowns again. “I think. I can never remember, myself.”

They all laugh, although Lance is uncomfortable, especially when JC looks at him with sad eyes, something like disappointment in them. “I gotta take a piss,” he says, and he’s out the door and on his way to the bathroom before anyone else can attempt to demonstrate what fabulous comedians they are.

Justin’s in the bathroom, washing his hands. Lance pauses, his hand on the door. “Justin,” he says.

“Forget it,” Justin says quickly. “It’s okay, I’m done here. I’m going,” He hangs the towel back up and stands motionless for a minute, studying the painting of the dolphins over the toilet. “It’s a nice picture. I’m glad you got it fixed.” And then he’s gone.

*

 _“They’re meeting us at the airport. Steve says they should be able to make the flight.” Lance couldn’t catch his breath, and he felt like he’d run up the twenty flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. His legs were rubbery, and he wobbled to the bed while they were still holding him up. Delayed reaction to fear, he figured._

 _Justin kept yanking clothes out of the dresser with sharp, jerky movements, not turning around when Lance plopped down on the bed next to his suitcase. “I don’t care if he makes it or not,” he said viciously. “Stupid fucker.”_

 _Startled, Lance reached out and gently took hold of Justin’s arm when he turned to dump a handful of dirty t-shirts into the suitcase, looking at him closely. His eyes were red-rimmed and he was clenching his jaw in the way that Lance knew meant he’d have a headache by the time they boarded their flight to LA if he didn’t relax. Lance tugged and Justin reluctantly sat down next to him, staring at the wadded up shirt he clutched tightly, his hands between his knees. “J?”_

 _“What did he mean, he_ forgot _about the spring-loaded_ thing?! _He didn’t even know what it’s called! How could he just not pay attention like that? Is he that stupid?!” Justin sounded furious, his voice rising with each sentence._

 _Lance shrugged. “He’s Joey. He’s not stupid. He’s just-”_

 _Justin jumped up from the bed, flinging his shirt at Lance. It hit him in the face, and Lance grabbed it and put it in Justin’s suitcase. “He’s stupid!” Justin yelled, his voice breaking. And Lance realized that Justin had been terrified when Joey screamed and fell, clutching his leg. Lance had been too worried about Joey, too busy putting pressure on his leg, making sure he kept the towel firmly in place no matter how much Joey tried to move, to pay much attention to Justin. Joey was hurt, and while it wasn’t the first time, it was certainly the worst Lance had seen, and even Joey had lost his equilibrium for a time there. He needed Lance, and that’s all that mattered._

 _But now Joey was fine, that’s what Steve said on the phone, and he was going to be able to fly with them to LA tonight. They were going to spend the next two days shooting the video for_ Pop _, although no one was saying yet to what extent Joey would be able to participate. There was talk of having Wade stand in for him for some of the longer shots, although Joey didn’t know that yet. Lance had a feeling it was supposed to be his job to tell him during their flight._

 _Wade was certainly a handy guy to have around, always ready to step in whenever he was needed, whenever one of them was unable to do their part, for whatever reason._

 _And suddenly Lance had a clear recollection of Justin’s face, pale with fear, his eyes wide and scared, his mouth a shocked red “oh!” looking on as Lance held Joey’s leg until the paramedics got him loaded onto the gurney. They had gently peeled Lance’s hand away from the bloody towel, nodded at him reassuringly, and taken Joey away. Lance smiled at Joey, coolly stepped back, and had gone to find somewhere to wash his hands. He didn’t remember seeing Justin much after that, as they all made their way back to the hotel to get ready to leave town._

 _“He’s fine, Justin. He’s Joey. He’s fine. It’s gonna take more than a hole in his leg-” and then Justin made a noise like a hurt child and Lance was on his feet, wrapping his arms around Justin, holding on tight. Justin clung to him, trembling, his face buried in Lance’s shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Shh, Justin, look at me,” and Justin shook his head no. Lance laughed softly and kissed his neck._

 _“Don’t laugh at me,” Justin mumbled wetly into Lance’s shirt._

 _“I’m not. Come on, baby, look at me,” Lance said. Justin pulled back and blinked at Lance, his eyelashes damp. Lance put two fingers on either side of Justin’s jaw and massaged lightly. “Loosen up now, or you’re gonna have a headache, and then you’ll be miserable on the plane.”_

 _Justin sighed and flexed his jaw. “I know.”_

 _“I’ve got some Advil somewhere around here if you want a couple,” Lance said, and Justin nodded and sniffed._

 _Lance dug around in the jumble of things on the counter in the bathroom, and it was as he was popping three Advil out of the bottle into his palm that he noticed he still had Joey’s blood under his fingernails. He calmly put the bottle down, put the pills down, and called out, “Justin? Can you come here?”_

 _Justin’s head quickly appeared behind him in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”_

 _Lance held his hands out helplessly toward Justin. “Do you have something to get this off me?” he asked. He looked at the shaving kits and toothpaste and shampoo and felt panic start to rise up in his chest. “Can you hurry?”_

 _Justin paled when he got a good look at Lance’s hands, but he dug around in his bag until he emerged with a spare toothbrush. “Give me your hands.” Justin held Lance’s hands under warm running water, using the toothbrush to carefully scrub under his nails until there was no trace of blood left that either one of them could see. Lance’s hands were shaking, but Justin didn’t say a word._

 _They finished packing in silence, well-versed in the choreography of “this is yours, no it’s mine, no it’s yours, don’t put it in my suitcase,” having been doing it together for years._

 _Justin took one last look around the room to make sure they had everything. “Ready?” Lance nodded._

 _“Okay,” Lance conceded as they left the room, heading for the car to take them to the airport. “Maybe he’s a little stupid.”_


	17. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **enough a:** occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations **b:** in or to a degree or quantity that satisfies or that is sufficient or necessary for satisfaction **c:** in a tolerable degree

_Lance’s ass hurt. He really needed to find Anthony. His damn mechanical bull had some sort of grudge against him, Lance was convinced of it. “Anthony!” he yelled as he spotted the tell-tale ponytail and tattoos moving among the crowd around the crew’s lunch table._

 _Anthony turned when he heard his name. “What are you doing here?” He looked at his watch. “Don’t you have soundcheck in-”_

 _Lance rolled his eyes and interrupted before Anthony really got going. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way there now, chill out. But I need to talk to you a minute.” He looked around, then confided in a low voice, “Listen, that bull is killing me. I can barely sit down, that’s how sore my ass is.”_

 _Anthony pressed his lips together, obviously struggling not to either laugh or say something completely unprofessional. Lance waited patiently for him to get over it, tapping his watch and raising his eyebrows significantly._

 _Anthony grinned. “Yeah, yeah, kid,” he mimicked. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe some wiseass thought it would be funny to crank the speed up, or something.”_

 _“Can you at least pad it more?” Lance asked plaintively._

 _Anthony snickered. “Sure, Bass, I can do that. We’re almost finished with load-in, the bulls should be around here somewhere.” Like he didn’t know exactly where everything was at all times. Lance realized that it was truly heroic of Anthony not to make any remarks about Lance’s natural padding, and he grinned appreciatively back at him._

“Thanks,” he said and he gave Anthony a one-armed hug before hurrying off to see if he could catch fifteen minutes with the massage therapist before soundcheck started.

 _Lance was conscious of the appraising looks his ass was getting from at least one member of the rigging team as he left, and he could only hope Anthony hadn’t noticed it. He didn’t like his guys fraternizing with the talent, and there was no reason to upset him. Lance casually turned his head in Luke’s direction as he passed him by, and gave a slight nod as their eyes met. Britney was scheduled to join the tour for the weekend, and she and Justin liked to keep the first night for themselves._

 _Shaking his head as he hunted down Sarah, Lance told himself he wasn’t going to think about it. But as her fingers worked their magic on his sore muscles, he couldn’t help wondering how things had gotten to the point where they were this fucked up._

 _The next day, Lance didn’t even try to hide the beard burn on his neck. They had a free day in Chicago before they were scheduled to leave for the next stop on the tour, and Lance slept most of the morning. Whatever Justin and Britney were planning for the day, he was sure they’d let him know whenever they were ready to hook up._

 _Chris was hanging out being annoying when Lance showed up in Joey’s room to ask him if he wanted to go out to lunch. There were a couple of restaurants they’d really liked when they were here filming_ On The Line _, and Lance was hoping Joey didn’t have any other plans yet. Chris looked at Lance funny, his sharp eyes on Lance’s neck, but he didn’t say anything. That was just as well, because Lance was in no mood for Chris and his comments. It wasn’t any of Chris’s business what Lance did while Justin was with Britney._

 _It wasn’t even about sex at this point. Lance knew very well that Justin and Britney almost always kept their promise and didn’t do much in the way of sex without him being there with them. That was great. Lance thought it was probably the idea that Justin wanted to do it without him that bothered him, and he knew very well that it was usually Britney who made Justin keep their promise. Lance got that Britney was a girl, but he was tired of pretending that made it okay._

 _Lance had had enough, he was tired of it, and fuck Justin._

 _Lance’s mood lightened after about ten minutes in Joey’s presence, which is why he was there in the first place. He was relaxed and giggling over the reruns of_ I Love Lucy _that Joey found on one of the local cable channels, and he was even laughing with Chris by the time the first commercial for Kraftmatic Adjustable Beds came on._

 _After, Lance and Joey put on baseball caps and scared up a couple of security guys and went to Johnny Rockets for big, juicy hamburgers that weren’t on either of their diets, while Chris went off to find JC, promising darkly that JC would be very sorry that he’d slept so late and kept Chris waiting. Lance got the impression there would be sexual favors involved._

 _Justin was waiting for him in Lance’s half of their suite when he and Joey got back to the hotel. “Where did you go? Me and Brit thought we’d go have lunch, but we couldn’t find anyone.” Lance tried to ignore the hint of accusation in Justin’s voice._

 _“Justin,” Lance said, waving his phone around before putting it on the dresser, “I have a cell phone. I carry it with me at all times. You have the number. I programmed it into your phone myself.”_

 _“Right. Well,” and here Justin looked around the room, “I’m not sure where my phone is, you know?”_

 _Lance didn’t bother to point out that Britney had a phone, too. He just sighed and said, “Joey and I went out to eat, and I think Chris and JC stayed in. I didn’t ask, because I didn’t really wanna know, what with Chris’s talk of sexual vengeance. I don’t even want to think about what he’s doing to JC right now.”_

 _Justin laughed at that. “Dude.” Then he turned to look out the windows, squinting at Lake Michigan glinting in the sun far below. “Where’d you guys go to eat? Anywhere good?” he asked like he wasn't the least bit concerned._

 _Lance wasn’t fooled. “Johnny Rockets,” he answered neutrally._

 _“Ah. Well,” and Justin turned around and faced him, his eyes cool. “You and Joey have any plans for the afternoon?”_

 _“For God’s sake, Justin, knock it off,” Lance said irritably. “No, we don’t have any plans. I was hoping to do something with you, if you and Britney aren’t too busy being America’s sweethearts today.”_

 _Justin bristled at that. “Me and Brit aren’t any different than you and Joey, Lance. She’s my best friend is all.”_

 _“And here I thought I was your best friend,” Lance said. They stood watching each other, Lance’s words hanging in the air between them._

 _Then Justin shook his head and looked away and said, “You know what I mean, Lance. You and Joey like to hang out, so do Britney and I. I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s the same thing.”_

 _“Bullshit.” Lance snapped. “Sure it’s the same thing, if you ignore the fucking around.”_

 _“It’s not like you don’t want to fuck Joe, he just doesn’t want to fuck you,” Justin snarled. Lance felt all the air go out of his lungs, and he wasn’t sure if he made a noise or not. Justin paled, looking almost as stricken at what he’d just said as Lance felt. Lance didn’t care._

 _“I don’t want Joe, you fucking ass, I never have, but even if I did, he wouldn’t make me feel as crappy about it as you do!”_

 _“Me? I’m not the one-” Justin broke off and pointed to Lance’s neck. “You think I don’t know what that is? If that’s not from Joey, then who? Who the fuck did that?” Justin advanced on Lance, grabbing his arm and turning him roughly around so he was facing the mirror. “Look!”_

 _Lance yanked his arm out of Justin’s grasp. “Fuck you, Justin! You weren’t around last night. You were with your girlfriend. What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Lance’s voice cracked on his last words, and he turned away, blinking against the sudden sting in his eyes._

 _It was a long time before Justin spoke again. Lance struggled to regain control, taking deep breaths, letting them out slowly._

 _“You were supposed to wait for us. For me.” Justin sounded suddenly lost, as if he was just a kid again, unsure of everything he thought he knew._

 _“I’m tired of waiting, Justin.” Lance was suddenly tired of all of it, the talking, the fighting, the way Justin made him feel so unimportant sometimes._

 _“What do you mean?” Justin’s eyes searched his face._

 _Lance looked at him sadly. “Do you remember your sixteenth birthday, Justin? When we were over in Germany, and we got our first gold record, and it was the first time we did more than just make out, we actually, almost, kind of had sex?” And Lance smiled at the memory, because neither one of them had really had much of a clue about what they were doing, but Justin had been slick and hard against him, and it had been one of the hottest things Lance had ever done, ever, in his whole life. Justin stared at him, and Lance went on. “And I said, wow, sex and a gold record for your birthday, and you said,” and Lance’s voice broke again and he had to stop talking for a minute to steady himself. Justin reached a hand out to him, but Lance took a step back, out of his reach. He shook his head._

 _“And I said you were enough, I didn’t need the gold record. I remember,” Justin whispered, the sound barely reaching Lance’s ears._

 _Lance nodded. “Although it was certainly nice to have.”_

 _Justin smiled slightly. “It certainly was,” he agreed. He didn’t say anything else, he just waited, still watching._

 _Lance closed his eyes. “I want to be enough again, Justin.”_

*

Chris’s party is a big success. He even buys decent beer for a change, although Justin’s been drinking Jack and Coke pretty steadily since he arrived. That’s fine, because Lance is putting back shots of tequila like there’s no tomorrow, and it’s pretty much a footrace to see who gets completely shit-faced first.

Justin thinks he may be winning.

The twins with the neck tattoos are conspicuous by their absence, and Justin thinks he should thank Chris for that. He starts to wind his way across the crowded room, intent on expressing his heartfelt gratitude to his host, when he sees Lance heading upstairs. And no, no way is Justin letting Lance make out in the bathroom with anyone tonight. Not happening, no way, baby.

He changes course, navigating the stairs very carefully, and sure enough, when he gets to the top, he sees Lance disappear into the bathroom, a skinny guy with wildly curling brown hair hot on his heels.

And this time when Justin shoves the door open, he isn’t polite, and he doesn’t retreat. He puts his hands on his hips and says, “What the hell, Lance?”

And Lance frowns at him, and Justin is really tired of seeing that expression on Lance’s face. But before he can say that, the guy with the curly brown hair, who’s so skinny Justin knows for sure he can kick his ass if he has to, says, “Justin?”

Justin peers closely at the skinny guy. Oh. “JC? What are you doing in here with Lance?” Justin’s sure he’d been picking up signals earlier that JC and Chris are in the “on” phase of their years-long on-again off-again relationship.

“We came in here to have a conversation, man. That’s a bit hard to do downstairs.” JC grinned at him. “What are you doing in here, J?”

“Um, I came to, um-” and Justin doesn’t know quite how to put it. He can’t really tell JC he came in here to kick his ass for making out with Lance in Chris’s bathroom.

“He came in here to check up on me,” Lance says, sounding annoyed, and his cheeks are that delicate shade of pink they get when he drinks. It’s not quite the same as the flush they take on after he comes, but Justin appreciates it just the same.

“Well,” Justin starts, and he peers at JC suspiciously. “You didn’t come in here to make out with Lance, did you?”

Lance snorts in disgust and JC giggles. “No, honey, I sure didn’t.”

“Okay,” Justin nods happily. He smiles at JC. JC’s his friend.

“Oh, for the love of-we came in here to have a conversation, Justin,” Lance says pointedly. There’s a pause, and then he rolls his eyes and says, “A private conversation.”

“Nah, man, that’s okay. I’ll catch you later,” JC says, and he slips out of the bathroom, patting Justin on the shoulder as he goes.

Lance and Justin are left standing in the middle of Chris’s guest bathroom, regarding each other warily. “Have you lost your mind, Justin?” Lance demands.

“No, I don’t think so,” Justin answers with great dignity. “Have you?”

“What? You’re not even making any sense, Justin. How drunk are you, anyway?”

“Pretty damn drunk, I think,” Justin admits. He’s feeling a bit dizzy, and the room is doing strange whirling things that make his stomach uneasy.

“Well, go sleep it off somewhere. I’m sure Chris won’t care if you find-” but Lance doesn’t get to finish that sentence before Justin is lunging for the toilet, falling to his knees with a painful crack and fumbling to get the lid up. He hasn’t done this in years, he usually pays better attention to how much he drinks than he did tonight.

Lance crouches at his side, one hand rubbing soothing circles over the small of his back, the other holding out a cool, damp towel for Justin to wipe his face with. Justin takes a long, shuddering breath and croaks out, “I’m done.”

“You sure?” Lance asks gently, and Justin feels his eyes burn. Great. First he pukes, now he’s going to cry. What a great way to impress Lance. He nods gloomily.

“Let’s get you to one of the guest rooms, okay?” And Lance helps him stand up, and is nice enough to wait until the room stops spinning before leading him toward the stairs. Justin pauses at the foot of the steps, and shakes his head.

“I can find the guest room,” he says, embarrassed now.

Lance shrugs. “I’ll come with you to make sure you don’t end up sleeping in a bathtub somewhere.”

Together they manage to get up the stairs and into one of Chris’s spare bedrooms. Justin realizes that Lance has had less to drink than he’d thought. Justin crawls onto the bed, not bothering with the covers, and closes his eyes while Lance tugs off his sneakers and rummages around in the closet for a blanket, which he spreads out over him.

He reaches up and grabs Lance’s hand. Lance stares down at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light from the hallway. “Thanks.” Lance nods. “Lance? Enough, okay?”

For a long moment, Lance doesn’t say anything. Justin closes his eyes, starting to drift off into unconsciousness. Then Lance’s voice comes softly out of the darkness that’s threatening to pull him under. “Justin, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“No more guys,” Justin mumbles before he passes out. “That’s enough.”

*

 _It felt like it was the last time. Every kiss, every touch, felt like goodbye somehow. Lance angled his head back, a silent invitation that Justin answered with his teeth and his tongue. After all these years, they could read each other intuitively, they could make love without words, with just sighs and murmurs, soft whispers and quiet moans._

 _It was quite a contrast to this past weekend, really. Parts of that sunny Saturday afternoon had been almost as familiar as this, the part with Britney’s hands on him, sure and knowing, preparing him, petting and soothing him._

 _Lance tightened his legs around Justin’s waist, pulling him in, arching his hips up, asking wordlessly for things he knew Justin would give him. Justin bent his head and kissed him, his tongue slipping inside, tasting him unhurriedly._

 _There had been other hands on him Saturday, ones that hadn’t been at all familiar, a different tongue, tasting like a stranger, all of it new. It was hot, to feel that with Britney there, to let someone else do the things he only ever did with Justin._

 _Tonight he and Justin fucked for what seemed like hours, slowly, languorously, Justin smiling down at him, kissing his eyelids, his nose, his hair. Lance smiled back, looking deep into Justin’s eyes, getting lost, almost forgetting his fear. He didn’t think he’d ever loved Justin more than he did in those moments, the moments before he lost him._

 _Saturday, when it was over, he’d wanted to die. He’d wanted to take it back, to never have done it. He fought down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, managed to get himself out of bed and into his clothes without making a total fool of himself. Britney had followed him to the door, a sheet wrapped carelessly around her soft, beautiful body._

 _“Darlin’, it’s okay. It’ll be fine.” She reached up to brush Lance’s hair off his forehead, pushing it back, trying to make it stand up in spikes, laughing at him when it fell again._

 _He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers for a moment, just breathing. Then he raised his head and looked at Wade, sprawled naked on the bed behind her, one arm propped behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, his fingers carelessly stroking his flaccid cock. He smiled at Lance, a curious smile, almost triumphant, and Lance felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t seem to remember how he’d ended up here, why he’d said yes._

 _He brushed a brief kiss across Britney’s lips, nodded at Wade, and left as quickly as he could get himself out the door. He found a bathroom and spent the next fifteen minutes throwing up, trying not to panic. He wasn't very successful. He stared at himself in the mirror as he wiped his mouth, not recognizing the hollow expression in the eyes that stared back at him._

 _Now he lay beneath Justin, blinking back tears, and Justin gazed down at him, looking worried. He kissed Lance’s damp eyelashes, saying, “Your cheeks turn the best shade of pink when you come, man.” Justin had always loved that, had teased Lance about it for years. “What’s wrong, baby?”_

 _Lance could just not say anything, there was nothing that said he had to tell. Britney and Wade wouldn’t, that much he knew. Justin never had to know, no harm, no foul. It wasn’t like they were both perfect, or perfectly faithful, even. But this seemed different, more important somehow. The tour was almost over, only one more show, and then they'd have time, time away from the frenzy, at least for a little while. Lance and Joey had the premiere of their movie, and promo to do for that, and Justin and Britney had things to do, sure, but they would at least have a moment or two to catch their breaths, away from the others. Maybe they could stop being so angry at each other if they could just have that._

 _Lance kissed Justin’s neck, then pushed him gently to the side. He rolled over and sat up, poised on the edge of the bed, his back to Justin, hands clasped between his knees. Justin put a hand on Lance’s shoulder, rubbing gently. “Lance?” The concern in his voice made Lance feel like the biggest asshole in the world._

 _“Justin,” Lance said with despair. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t sure why he thought he should. He took a deep breath. “You know Saturday? You know how you and Chris took the bikes out? And, um, Brit flew in to talk to Wade about her tour?” Justin’s hand stilled on his back. Lance’s voice was thick with tears. “We-I, um Britney and Wade, they wanted-we, oh, shit, Justin, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have. I don’t know why I did.” He stopped, unable to continue._

 _Justin’s hand was gone, and Lance’s back felt cold where it had rested just a moment before. He shivered, afraid to turn around. “I didn’t mean to.” He didn’t, it hadn’t been premeditated, it had just happened. He hadn’t sought it out, he just hadn’t said no._

 _He’d always had an unshakeable faith in him and Justin, but he himself apparently wasn’t worthy of that faith._

 _“You son of a bitch,” Justin said in a hard, low voice, and Lance forced himself to turn around then. Justin was pale, his eyes dark and glittering. Lance’s stomach lurched._

 _“Justin, it’s not any different than-” but Justin cut him off._

 _“Like hell it’s not! I can’t even-how could you do that?” Justin stared at him as if he’d never seen him before._

 _And Lance realized he had hit on the one thing he could do that would hurt Justin the most. He must have known that on some level or he wouldn't have done it. He looked helplessly up at Justin, too afraid of what he’d done to know what he should do now. “I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say, and he said it again as Justin jerkily pulled his clothes on, not caring that his shirt was on inside out, he said it as Justin randomly threw things into his bags, and he said it as Justin walked out of their room without another word._

 _Lance stood stock-still in the middle of the room, completely lost. He was too scared to even cry. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, the sheets behind him rumpled and smelling like Justin, and twisted his fingers together, trying to think._

 _His eyes darted around the room, not knowing what he was looking for, and they landed on his cell phone, laying on the dresser. He got up again to reach for it, his movements stiff and clumsy, like those of his grandfather on a rainy morning. Clutching it in his hand, he stumbled to a chair, avoiding the bed where he had said goodbye to Justin._

 _He pressed a number on his phone and waited. The tears finally came when he heard his mother’s voice in his ear._


	18. Phobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **phobia: a:** an exaggerated, usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation **b:** intolerance or aversion for

_“I’m sorry, Britney,” Lance sighed into the phone. He’d already said that about a million times. It seemed like everybody was mad at him. Well, Joey wasn’t mad, he just shook his head and wrapped Lance in a hug that Lance would have given anything to be able to hide in for about a hundred years. He rubbed a hand wearily across his forehead as he listened to Britney talk. “Of course I told him. How could I not?”_

 _But it appeared that Brit could think of a lot of reasons not to tell Justin what had happened, and she spent the next ten minutes listing them all for Lance. He listened patiently, because he owned her that much, and when she finally ran out of things to say, dissolving into tears at the end, he said it again. “I’m sorry.”_

Chris was actually kind to him, and although Lance didn’t understand it, it was one of the only things that made the few days they all spent together in the Bahamas taping the Atlantis concert bearable. Trace was with them, and he kept himself planted firmly between Justin and everybody else the entire time.

 _JC was still reeling from the events of September 11th, and while he smiled sympathetically at Lance from time to time, and could occasionally be seen talking earnestly in the corner with Justin, he didn’t really have much to say. Later, Lance realized that JC was distracted by the end of his own relationship with Bobbie, but at the time, nothing existed for Lance except the fact that no matter now many times he tried to talk to Justin, to tell him he was sorry, Justin refused to hear him._

 _Christmas, though, Christmas was the worst._

 _Lance knew his mother loved him. He had always thought it was an unconditional love, existing independently of his faults and his sins. He’d come home expecting to be held safe in her arms, and she_ had _held him, but there was judgment in her eyes and her words of sympathy and support were tempered by disappointment._

 _He’d never been afraid to look at his mother’s face before, but now, each time he saw censure there, he dreaded their next conversation._

 _“You know we’re here if you need us, Lance,” she said, and she meant it, but it wasn’t enough._

 _Lance began to look around for somewhere else to run to._

 _*_

 _Justin did what he always did when he was hurt, and he did it without thinking, without hesitation, without having to ask if he could._

 _He went home._

 _And good for Lance, he had waited until the tour was over to break Justin’s heart. At least Justin didn’t have to see him every day, at least they weren’t still booked into adjoining rooms and double suites all over the country._

 _He’d gone to Chris that night, of course. He’d been out in the hallway, his suitcases at his feet, attempting to remember which room was Chris’s. He stood there, furious tears on his face, trying not to hear the sounds coming from the room he’d just walked out of. Chris stuck his head out his door, apparently hoping to find someone to get him some ice. He took one look at Justin’s face, and, propping the door open with the ice bucket, bustled him and his bags inside._

 _Chris didn’t ask, because he didn’t have to. Even after their worst fights, Justin and Lance didn’t walk away from each other. The fact that Justin was standing there helplessly in the middle of the night was all Chris needed to know._

 _Justin smelled like sex and tears, he smelled like Lance, and Chris helped him into a warm bath and brought him a clean pair of sweatpants, and one of his own t-shirts, one that smelled spicy and warm, like Chris._

 _Then Chris crawled into bed behind him, curling an arm around his waist, tugging him back where he felt safe and cared for. He shivered, unable to stop the endless, silent tears. Chris made soothing noises behind him, and Justin thought of Lance, cold and alone, with no one to comfort him._

 _He went to Tennessee, and his mother, like Chris, held him and consoled him, but unlike Chris, she didn’t allow him to remain silent._

 _He told her everything, because he always did. She nodded, she asked him if he was certain of what he wanted, and what he didn’t._

 _“Be very sure, Justin,” she warned. “There are some things it’s almost impossible to take back.”_

 _“You think I don’t know that?” he demanded fiercely. “There are some things that are impossible to forgive.” He didn’t care how dramatic that sounded. It was the truth._

 _It was no problem at all to cut Wade off from the group. They had already decided that if they went out again, the tour, the choreography, everything, would be scaled down. Wade was expendable._

 _Justin still had several commitments with Britney, commitments they were contractually obligated to fulfill, and he was willing to do that. It was just his job, which was the way they had started, so, hey, full circle. He’d let her be the one to deal with the rumors, and he’d be a gentleman in public, mostly because his mother would kill him if he wasn’t._

 _As for Lance, it was over. Justin didn’t need to think about that, in spite of his mother’s words. No soul-searching necessary. There was no other choice to make. What Lance had done was unforgivable. Justin had never slept with anyone besides Lance and Britney. Never. It made him sick to think of Wade’s hands on Lance._

 _His mother studied his face, then patted his cheek and smiled at him with soft sorrow. “You know I’m here, baby, if you need me.”_

 _Justin nodded._

 _*_

 _The Celebrity tour was pure, unadulterated hell. Justin was like a wounded animal, snapping and snarling and almost completely unapproachable. Lance knew that because he kept trying, but Justin never let him get close. It didn’t matter anyway, because after a while, the words_ I’m sorry _lost all linguistic meaning, the way words become purely nonsense sounds when they’re repeated over and over and over again._

 _Britney was gone. Wade was gone. Lance knew the only reason he wasn’t gone was because even Justin didn’t have that much power. That didn’t mean Justin had to acknowledge his existence, though. Even onstage, they were usually far enough apart, separated by JC and Chris, that Justin could pretend he was performing with three of his closest friends and one interloper who didn’t belong, and therefore didn’t need to be addressed._

 _Lance didn’t complain. He was still too numb to fight back. He functioned, he did his job, but offstage, or when there were no cameras or fans around, he operated on autopilot._

 _He’d never dreaded anything in his life the way he dreaded the Celebrity tour. Any other time, he would have enjoyed the stripped-down simplicity of it-okay, stripped-down compared to the PopOdyssy tour. The Ringling Brothers Circus would be simple compared to that. This was so much better- except for the lack of impressive pyro- less dancing, less gags, less_ Tearing Up My Heart _and_ For the Girl _and_ God Must Have Spent. _Even_ I Want You Back _was tolerable again, except for the nights when Chris got a little too carried away with himself, and then Lance had too much time to think, sitting onstage waiting for him to wind down, to stop talking about his uncle and hockey and people in their underwear. That was the thing about having less spectacle; it wasn’t nearly distracting enough._

 _Chris, of course, was thrilled with the lack of flying gags, and he never stopped letting people know that. If Lance heard him say, “It’s not a fear, it’s a phobia” one more time, he was afraid of what he might do. It wouldn’t be pretty, and Chris seemed completely unaware of the danger he was in._

 _“Shut up, my God, don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You’ve been saying it for years, is there anyone left on the fucking planet who doesn’t know you’re a big chickenshit when it comes to being more than five feet off the ground?”_

 _Chris appraised him coolly from under the brim of the stupid woolly hat he was wearing. It may still have been winter time, but they were indoors, for Chrissake. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Mississippi boy.” It was the most Chris had said to him in months. The kindness of Atlantis hadn’t survived Justin’s obvious unhappiness._

 _Lance didn’t really know exactly how much of what happened Chris knew. It didn’t really matter, he supposed. Joey knew everything, of course. The rounds of promo for _On The Line_ had passed by in a blur, and without Joey, Lance would have fallen on his face more than once. The shitty reviews, the crappy box office, none of it had mattered in the least, except as one more piece of evidence that Lance failed at life. He’d been blessed, he knew that, with so many things, and he’d blown every one of them._

And whenever he got too maudlin and started saying shit like that, Joey, would smack him and make him laugh reluctantly at himself. He didn’t know what he would do without Joey.

*

“What are you so afraid of, anyway?” Chris asks belligerently.

“What do you mean?” Lance is equally antagonistic.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I mean.” Chris sneers.

“Well, what are _you_ so afraid of?” Lance counters, glaring.

“You both need to be afraid of me,” JC says firmly from behind them, and he gives them a determined push into the same room where they’ve planned so many other things, tours and hiatuses and strategies to deal with girlfriends and boyfriends and babies. _Back to Back_ is a hit, in spite of the lame title, and it’s time to hammer out the details of the upcoming tour.

JC insures that Chris and Lance are crammed together on the same couch by shoving Chris down with a sharp “park your ass” and then turning to Lance with a unyielding look in his eye and a polite “after you” as he gestures to the spot next to Chris.

Lance reluctantly sits, but only because it’s JC.

Justin observes them from the other couch with a kind of detached interest. JC nods at Joey, then sits down next to Justin. Lance is reminded of a guard dog, for some reason.

Joey folds his arms across his chest, looks around at them all sternly and clears his throat. “Now listen. If I wanted to spend the next three months cooped up with willful children, I’d fucking volunteer to work in the cafeteria at Bri’s school.” He shudders slightly. “But I don’t. So me and C are gonna set a few things straight.”

Chris smirks triumphantly at Lance. “Don’t look at me, Chris,” Lance snaps. “I’m not the one-”

“Shut up, Lance,” Joey says. “Me and C are doing the talking here.”

“Who died and made you the boss, Fatone?” Chris says, glaring from Joey to JC and back again.

“That would be you, honey, if you don’t shut up and listen,” JC answers sweetly. Chris blanches at JC’s tone, and shuts up.

Justin still hasn’t said anything, but he’s looking down, studying his hands with an air of great concentration.

Now that Joey has everyone’s undivided attention, he seems uncertain of exactly what he wants to say. He glances over at JC, who nods encouragingly. “Well. This is a new start, for a lot of things. I think this album kicks ass, and I think we can have a really successful tour.”

“It would have kicked a lot more ass if it didn’t have such a lame title,” Chris mutters. Beside him on the couch, Lance snickers.

“Hey!” Justin protests. “I _like_ -”

“You named your last CD _FutureSex/LoveSounds_ ,” Chris says with a smirk, as if that totally proves his point. Lance, at least, thinks it does.

“Christopher,” JC says in a cool voice, and to Lance’s surprise, Chris flushes and shuts up. Lance looks over at Justin, and they share a small smile. JC beams approvingly at them.

“So let’s fucking hash it out now,” Joey’s saying. “Gloves off.” He points at Chris. “You first, since you seem to have so much to say.”

Chris doesn’t speak for a minute. His leg bounces double-time, and Lance reaches over and puts his hand on his knee, squeezing once. Chris raises his head and looks around. “Last time we did this….” He stops and clears his throat. “Well, I don’t have to tell you what last time was like. I can’t do that again.” He turns his head and looks directly at Lance. “It was like watching every relationship my mother ever had when I was growing up crash and burn.”

Lance blinks in shock. “Chris….”

Chris shakes his head. “No, Lance. I’m talking. We agreed, all of us, to do this again. We all had our reasons, and I can guess what some of them were.” He looks at Justin. “But, love, love fucks everything up. And I won’t fucking watch it happen again.” He looks back at Lance. “And that’s what I’m afraid of, Bass.” He snorts. “Love. How fucking lame is that?”

“Chris, how long have your mom and Todd been together?” JC asks quietly, and Lance is startled by the intensity of the emotion in JC’s eyes.

“A long time, I know, JC, I know.” Chris smiles weakly. “I’m working on it, C. I promise.”

Lance squeezes Chris’s knee again, and Chris covers his hand with his own. Lance turns his hand and clasps Chris’s fingers tightly. When Joey says, “Okay, Lance, now you,” Chris refuses to let Lance pull away.

Joey doesn’t mean it’s Lance’s turn to talk, apparently, he means it’s Lance’s turn to listen. “I know this has been hard, man. Believe me, I know. I think it’s getting better, and you’ve made some real progress.”

Chris and Justin snort at the same time. “Jesus, Joey,” Lance says irritably. “Are you my shrink now?”

“Whatever, motherfuckers.” Joey scowls around the room at them all.

JC laughed. “It’s okay, Joe. I think we all appreciate what you’re saying, dude.” He turns to look at Lance. “We want this to be a good tour, man. And we’re willing to make allowances for a certain amount of drama. It’s us, it comes with the territory.”

Lance smiles up at JC. “No kidding.” They all laugh, even Justin. “I’ll give it my best shot, JC. We can call this the no-drama tour, just for you.” He looks at Justin. “Okay?”

Justin nods. He hasn’t said more than about two words the whole time.

“Justin? Anything you want to add?” JC asks.

Justin shakes his head. “I’m cool.”

JC rubs his hands together, looking like a demented cricket. “Fabulous. Now, Joey, go let Johnny in, and let’s talk about those buses.”

*

 _Justin wearily climbed the steps of the bus, tossing his jacket on the table on his way towards the back. Chris and JC were behind him, and nobody was saying a word. Chris was dying to, of course, and was probably only holding off until JC let his guard down or fell asleep, whichever came first. While Justin appreciated JC’s efforts to spare him from Chris’s opinion of Lance’s recent behavior, he knew it was only a matter of time._

 _“Go ahead, say it,” Justin muttered at Chris as he threw himself onto the couch._

 _“Have we gone to a club yet that he hasn’t hooked up in?” Chris demanded. Chris had decided to pace in the little bit of space available to him. Terrific._

 _JC frowned but didn’t say anything._

 _“I don’t know, I haven’t been keeping track,” Justin snapped._

 _Chris turned on him. “Bullshit,” he said angrily._

 _“What are you bitching at me for, you fucker? What do you want me to do?” Justin’s voice rose in frustsration._

 _Chris rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I’m not bitching at you. I just-God, could things get any more fucked up?” He made another circuit of the tiny space in front of the couch._

 _“They probably could if we tried really hard. Just-I don’t see the point in talking about it.” Justin said with an irritated shrug._

 _Chris stood glaring at him, hands planted on his hips, then he sighed and sank down on the couch next to him, slumping over until his head was resting on Justin’s shoulder. Justin watched as JC visibly relaxed._

 _“I’m sorry,” Chris said._

 _“I know.”_

 _JC moved suddenly, rubbing his hands together with an almost grim cheerfulness. “If we’re going to watch a movie instead of sleep, I think I need another drink. Who wants what?” he asked over his shoulder, heading for the small bus kitchen._

 _Two nights later, Justin watched Lance leave the club they were in, heading out to one of the SUVs with a slim blond boy following him, keeping the requisite five feet distance behind Lance._

 _Earlier that evening, Lance had come to Justin’s room, knocking on the door as Justin stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Justin went to the door, knowing exactly who it was. It had become a nightly ritual whenever they stayed over in a hotel. Every night, Lance knocked on his door. Every night, Justin didn’t answer it._

 _He stood behind the closed door, leaning his forehead against the cool wood veneer. He didn’t look through the peephole._

 _“Justin. Justin, please. Will you talk to me?” Lance’s voice was low, like he didn’t want random passers-by to hear him talking to a closed door._

 _Justin breathed._

 _Lance waited._

 _Justin was afraid to open the door. He wasn’t strong enough to tell Lance no, not if there was no one there to stop him. And he had to be strong. He had to move on. It would hurt too much to do it all again._

 _Justin waited until he heard Lance say the same thing he always said. “I’m sorry.” After the first few times, Justin had learned when to move away from the door, so that he couldn’t hear Lance’s whispered, “I love you.”_

 _Eric followed Lance and the blond boy out the side exit. Justin knew there would again only be one car left to take the rest of them back to the hotel later, but no one would complain._

 _He turned to JC. “Let’s dance.”_


	19. Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **map: a:** a representation, usually on a flat surface, of the whole or a part of an area **b:** a representation of the celestial sphere **c:** on the map: in a position of prominence or fame **d:** to plan in detail **e:** map your way around someone’s body

_Justin had it all planned out. They’d be finished with this godforsaken tour at the end of April, and then he’d be free. He hadn’t even had to talk anyone into it. They were all ready for a break. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d gone for even a week without being together, doing something, even if it was only a Chili’s commercial._

 _Pharrell was waiting for him. JC and Chris would be fine. Joey was talking about Broadway. It was possible Justin was terrified, but he wasn’t about to admit it._

 _And except for Challenge in July, he wouldn’t have to see Lance at all. If this weekend, while Lance was off in fucking_ Russia _of all places, was any indication of what that was going to be like, Justin couldn’t wait to get started._

 _In spite of the stripped-down nature of the Celebrity tour, they still traveled with the same amount of crap that they always had, only now there were golf bags added to the motorcycles, drum sets, weights and video games. Justin was able to drag Chris out for a round of golf the day after their Dallas concert. Unfortunately, it was hot as fuck out, they both played shitty, and they came back in really bad moods._

 _That would have been fine, they did that all the time, but they encountered Joey in the hotel corridor, bouncing down the hallway with Tiny and whistling_ Copacabana _really loudly. Justin needed to get into his room, quickly._

 _“Fuck,” Justin swore as he tried for the fourth time to get his keycard to work. The red light in the door blinked steadfastly at him._

 _“What’s up, J?” Joey asked, peering over his shoulder as he and Tiny reached Justin’s room._

 _“Fuck off, Joey.” Justin slammed his hand against the door in frustration. “Fucking key.”_

 _“Didja have it sitting next to a credit card? Sometimes that fucks up the magnetic strip, or something,” Joey said helpfully._

 _Justin turned to glare at him. “No, I didn’t have it next to a fucking credit card. It just won’t work!”_

 _Joey narrowed his eyes. “Call down to the front desk, then, and tell ‘em to bring up a new one.” He no longer sounded quite so cheerful._

 _“Thanks, Joey,” Justin said sarcastically. “I never would have thought of that. That’s so helpful.”_

 _“Hey, what the hell’s up your ass, Timberlake?” There was a sudden tension in the air as Joey squared off, confronting Justin with a scowl._

 _Justin could tell by the set of Joey’s shoulders that he was actually pretty angry. Joey hardly ever got angry, and he was more than used to Justin’s occasional pissiness. It seemed some of the underlying currents of the past several months might have found an excuse to surface. Good. He was in just the right mood for it._

 _“Guys,” Chris said. He looked over at Tiny with a frown._

 _“Stay out of this, Chris,” Joey snapped._

 _“Joe-” Chris started, but Justin interrupted._

 _“Shut up, Chris.” He glowered at Joey._

 _“You’re just pissy because Lance stopped moping around after your ass,” Joey said, obviously trying to provoke Justin. “You’re mad because he moved on.”_

 _“Moved on? Space, Joey, fucking space? What the fuck is that? How is that moving on?” More like running away, if you asked Justin. He resolutely ignored the little voice in his head telling him that Justin had left nothing for Lance to stick around for._

 _“That’s finding something else to do besides pine after your fucking ass,” Joey said viciously, and Justin’s vision swam with rage. Lightening quick, he launched himself at Joey, swinging his fist, and actually making contact with the side of Joey’s head. Fuck, that hurt._

 _Joey grabbed the front of Justin’s shirt and shook, and Justin’s teeth practically rattled in his head. He swung at Joey again, and he heard Chris’s sharp voice say something, and then Tiny had him, his arms around his chest, pinning Justin’s hands to his sides._

 _“Let me go!” Justin said furiously, and he twisted, struggling to get out of Tiny’s iron grip._

 _Joey was breathing heavily, looking so unlike the sweet, happy man Justin had know since he was a child that all the fight abruptly went out of him. He stood, his head down, panting, trying to regain his composure._

 _Chris walked over to Joey and took hold of his chin with gentle fingers, tilting his face to get a better look at where Justin’s fist had landed. Joey let him, and Justin watched them out of the corner of his eyes, grateful that Joey and Chris’s friendship still seemed to be intact, had so far not been part of the fallout from him and Lance breaking up._

 _He wasn’t sure about his and Joey’s friendship, though._

*

“Hey, Joey.” Justin sits down next to Joey on the couch that runs almost half the length of the bus.

“Hey, J.” Joey throws his arm around Justin’s shoulder and pulls him close.

The discussion about buses had gone on for what seemed to Justin like forever, but they finally reached a consensus, if not a true agreement. Their real problem is one of basic math. It’s impossible to divide the number five evenly, except by itself. And tempting as that may be, no one really likes the idea of five separate buses. It’s an unnecessary expense for starters, and it doesn’t exactly scream group unity. So for now, Justin and Joey are on the two-man bus, and JC, Chris and Lance on the three-man, with options to renegotiate if more than one person has issues, but not any more often than every two weeks. It’s a very complicated accord, and Joey hangs a framed copy, printed out on parchment paper, in the bathroom of each bus.

“Nervous?” Their first concert is tonight, and they’re on their way from the airport to the venue. They’re playing all arenas this time, and most of the concerts have sold out, some more quickly than others.

“Nah,” says Joey, and they both laugh. “What do we have to be nervous about? This tour is gonna put us on the map!”

“Uh, Joe, I think we’re already on the map. Or we were. Or, you know.” And Joey might not be nervous, but Justin is. He doesn’t seriously doubt that the tour will be a success, the CD certainly has been, with both critics and fans, but he can’t help but worry. He shrugs and Joey smacks him on the back of the head.

“Ass. It’ll be fine.”

Justin smiles and leans into Joey until they arrive at the venue.

Justin likes to perform. That’s like saying Justin likes to breathe, but there’s something about performing with these four guys that makes him inordinately happy. The hiatus was never supposed to last forever, it wasn’t even supposed to last more than six months, and all the intervening years are momentarily forgotten as they clasp hands and bow after the final encore. Which is, of course, _Bye, Bye Bye._ How could it not be?

Lance even gets through his solo on _Only a Glimpse_ without a hitch, although his cheeks are an endearing shade of pink when it’s over. Justin watches him with a smile, and to his surprise, Lance glances across the stage at him and smiles back.

It doesn’t mean anything more than Lance being grateful that he remembered the words and stayed on key, but Justin will take it.

They all ride Justin and Joey’s bus back to the hotel. JC is vibrating with post-show energy, crawling over Chris to give Justin a hug, high-fiving Joey, kissing Lance loudly on the cheek. Chris finally reins him in, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him down firmly on his lap. JC wiggles around until he’s straddling Chris, and he grins amicably at him, practically nose-to-nose.

Lance laughs at them, and Justin impulsively says, “Where to next, pardner?”

It was one of their things, something they used to do on tour all the time. Lance always memorized the tour schedule, and could recite the list of cities and venues the way sixth graders would recite the names of the Presidents in order, back when Justin went to real school.

And Lance stares at Justin, and the other three fall silent, watching them, JC’s forehead against Chris’s, his head tilted to the side, squinting, Joey smiling encouragement. There are more memories here than Justin can deal with right now, and he holds his breath, waiting. Then, slowly, Lance smiles, and jabbing his finger at points on an invisible map in the air, says, “San Francisco, Anaheim, San Diego, back up to Oakland, across to Las Vegas,” and he goes all the way through the list, all the way down to Orlando. He’s still smiling at Justin when he’s done, and Justin grins back like an idiot.

It’s not quite the same as it used to be, of course. Somewhere in the middle of the No Strings tour, Justin thinks it was, Justin’s body became the map. Lance would touch the place behind Justin’s ear, gently stroking with his fingertip, and whisper, “San Diego. I’m going to blow you in San Diego, make you come so hard, so I can see what you taste like in San Diego.” He would bite softly at Justin’s neck and say, “Las Vegas. I’m going to let you fuck me in Las Vegas, Justin.” Justin would feel Lance’s tongue trace around his nipple, making him shiver. “Denver. I’m going to bend you over the table, the one on your bus, Justin, and fuck you. Maybe Chris and JC can watch, would you like that?” Soft air blowing over his naval, a tongue flicking in and out. “Chicago. Would you like a rimjob in Chicago, Justin?” By the time Lance got to Justin’s cock, whispering impossibly dirty things into his skin, Justin would come the minute Lance’s tongue made contact. Lance would laugh delightedly at him, and Justin would growl and pin his hips to the bed and ruthlessly suck him off, not even giving him time to breathe before he was laughing and coming down Justin’s throat at the same time.

No, this wasn’t the same, but it was a place to start.

*

 _Lance had never been able to tell Justin no, until he did. And once he did, even though he went about it in a completely fucked up way, there was no going back. Justin was gone._

 _So Lance did what he did best, which was to make plans. He knew some people, he had some contacts, and the next thing he knew, he was on a plane to Moscow, his father in the seat next to him and his medical records in his carryon._

 _They had all looked at him like he was insane when he’d told them. JC had been the first to get it, laughing and saying, “Oh my God, man, oh my God, I can’t believe you, dude. Space!” Every time he’d looked at Lance after that, he’d shaken his head and grinned, his eyes getting lost in his joy for Lance._

 _Chris cocked his head at him and said, “Good for you, Lance.” He nodded. “Good for you.”_

 _Joey picked him up and swung him around, depositing him breathless on the couch in the Quiet Room. Lance pulled his shirt down from where it had gotten rucked up under his armpits in Joey’s exuberance. “Are you fucking serious, Lance? Way to go!”_

 _He hadn’t actually told Justin, since he and Justin no longer had actual conversations, but he knew Justin knew. The other guys were trying very hard not to overtly pick sides, even though Lance was well aware they all had their opinions about what happened. He thought maybe Chris was mad at both of them for making their last tour such a living hell, but he and Lance didn’t talk much, either. They just said stuff like, “Pass the salt” and “Where’d the damn buses go?” so Lance didn’t really know for sure how Chris felt._

 _Chris was still Justin’s best friend, though, and Lance knew he told Justin about Lance trying to go to space. Justin glowered at him when the subject came up in group meetings, which they seemed to be having a lot of lately._

 _It was a hiatus, that was all it was supposed to be, but to Lance it felt like the slow and torturous dissolution of every thing in his life that mattered, especially since they tended to discuss it to death. JC worried constantly about whether he should live in LA or Orlando. Joey was trying very hard to get a part on Broadway, and it looked as if_ Rent _might be a possibility. Justin was all, “Pharrell this,” and “Timbaland that,” and then he’d realize Lance was in the room and clam up like a big baby. Chris had had a crappy spring, what with Busta dying and FuMan in trouble, and he was the only one not full of plans for the long break._

 _Lance didn’t know why they had to talk about it so much, and he finally started making excuses about having to learn Russian, or call David, or review his medical records every time JC came up behind him and said, “Group meeting, 3 o’clock, Joey’s room,” in his ear._

 _At night, Lance lay in his bunk and used his penlight to trace between the stars on the celestial maps he had taped to the ceiling of the bus above him. “Sirius,” he whispered in the darkness. “I’m going to give you the best blow job ever on Sirius, Justin. And here, this one is Orion. I’ll kiss you on Orion, and then when we get to Polaris, we can fuck.” The flashlight wavered and the stars became blurry as his eyes filled with tears._

 _He knew he was running, but there was nothing to stay for, so why shouldn’t he go as far away as he could go?_

*

Lance is convinced that whoever put together the order of the cities they’re playing on this tour couldn’t possibly have had a map in front of them at the time. They’re all over the place, up and down and all around. He guesses it doesn’t matter, and he really doesn’t mind the extra time on the buses. They’re almost going at a leisurely pace, plenty of down time between concerts. They no longer have to worry that it’s all going to go away tomorrow, because it already went away once, and they lived through it and survived just fine.

He’s not at all sure why Chris and JC don’t want the two-man bus, although he figures they assume he and Justin don’t want to be on a bus together, and Joey would have laughed in their faces had they suggested he be stuck with the two of them. Lance is cool with this arrangement, though. He and JC are good and they always will be, but he’d like to do some fence-mending with Chris. Hours and hours on a bus together will either help that along, or result in murder on the highway. Only time will tell for sure, he guesses.

The first show was great, with all the usual first show glitches, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Lance is still not quite ready to forgive Justin for saddling him with a solo, and for everyone else to insist that he actually sing it live, but he didn’t fuck it up, and so that’s one show down, thirty-four to go.

He wakes up to the sounds of Chris and JC squabbling over a video game. Who was it who said, “The more things change, the more they stay the same?” Some Japanese philosopher, Lance thinks. The same guy who said something about a thousand steps and a journey, maybe. Or maybe not. Lance doesn’t remember stuff like that very well.

Lance stretches and tumbles out of his bunk, hoping to God there’s coffee made. Chris and JC ignore him completely until he plops down between them on the couch, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. “Careful, you’re going to spill my coffee,” he admonishes them cheerfully.

They both turn to glare at him. “You suck, Bass,” Chris growls.

“And not in the good way,” JC adds with a scowl, but his eyes are twinkling.

“How would you know, hmm?” Lance teases.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” JC asks. “It’s only the third day and I’m lost already.”

“You started out lost, I’m afraid, C,” says Chris, shaking his head mournfully, and JC agrees.

“You may be right.”

“We’re in California, JC,” Lance tells him. "That’s all you need to know right now.” Lance gets up and moves to the kitchen to dig an apple out of the fruit bowl. He’s tempted to call Joey and see how things are going over on the other bus. He settles back to watch Chris and JC play.

Maybe later.

*

 _Lance is almost too numb to realize that this is going to be their last concert for a very long time. He’s exhausted, for one, and bored, and every show is just more thing he can cross off the list before he can go to Russia._

 _Thank God it’s in Orlando, and he an sleep in his own bed afterwards, after the parties and the clubbing and the good-byes, like they aren’t seeing each other in the studio tomorrow to record_ When You Wish Upon a Star _for Disney._

Actually, they’re scheduled to lay down their vocals at different times, so Lance doesn’t even have to see Justin if he doesn’t want to. But he shows up early, looking at his watch and then at the schedule in mock confusion, like it was all a big mistake, him being there at the same time as Justin. He doesn’t think Justin is fooled, but Lance doesn’t care. He sits and watches Justin sing, memories flooding back of countless other times in the studio, and he wonders if this is the last time he’ll get to do this.

He doesn’t have to look at a map to know that Virginia Beach and Moscow are very, very far apart.


	20. Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **rough: a:** coarse **b:** characterized by harshness or force **c:** presenting a challenge, difficult **d:** harsh to the ear **e:** executed hastily-rough draft **f:** live under primitive conditions-roughing it

_“Qu’est-ce que tu fait?”_

 _“Excuse moi?"_

 _“Non, non, Monsieur Bass.” Monsieur Clerc, Lance’s Russian teacher, who spoke to him only in Russian, or French, for heaven’s sake, shook his head mournfully and looked at Lance with sad eyes._

 _Lance looked back at Monsieur Clerc with helpless frustration. “Je regret…je ne sais pas,” he trailed off. If there was anything he had a lot of practice saying in French, it was “I don’t know.”_

 _“Exactement. Regardez-moi, Monsieur Bass.” Clerc pointed to his lips with his index finger as he said his next words. “Repetez. Povtorite. Chto ehto.”_

 _Lance dutifully repeated the words. He thought they meant_ what time is it, _or_ what time do we eat, _or_ what time does the damn rocket blast off? _All he knew for sure was that they didn’t mean_ time for a break. _“What time is it?” he guessed._

 _“Mais non. Nyet. Ce n’est pas quelle heur est t’il, Monsieur Bass.” Monsieur Clerc sighed. Lance sighed. How anyone expected him to learn Russian from some guy who only spoke French was beyond him. Monsieur Clerc was looking equally discouraged, and highly doubtful that he could teach Lance anything at all._

 _Lance knew that Clerc thought he was just a rich pop star buying his way into a trip to space, and while that was certainly true, that wasn’t_ all _he was. “Chjortu,” Lance muttered to himself. “Merde.”_

 _Okay. If there was one thing Lance was skilled at, it was overcoming the doubters and the naysayers. He’d certainly had plenty of experience with that. He wasn’t going to let this snobby French guy have the last word, in any language. He squared his shoulders and said with renewed determination, “Okay, again. De nouveau. Povtorite.”_

 _“Tres bien, Monsieur Bass. De nouveau.” Monsieur Clerc looked a little less discouraged, and Lance thought maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny twinkle in his eyes._

 _An hour later, his head spinning with the seemingly millions of different ways to conjugate Russian verbs, and with Monsieur Clerc’s almost-enthusiastic “Pas mal, Monsieur Bass,” ringing in his ears, Lance headed back to his small apartment. He hoped Freddy was ready for supper. Lance was starving._

 _It was a good thing Lance wasn’t a fussy eater. If he ever had been, being in a band, and one that traveled a lot, since he was sixteen years old had been enough for him to get over it. The food here wasn’t bad, exactly. It just wasn’t what Lance was used to. Freddy made a face at the egg salad with the pile of beets on top of it, and Lance sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. At least there would be vodka later, when they got back to the apartment._

 _JC sent Lance a news article about the Russians dropping him into the Black Sea with pretty much only his toothbrush for survival, attached to an e-mail that said, “Dude. At least you get to brush your teeth.”_

 _Lance laughed and wrote back, “Hey, that’s just a rumor, thank the lord…that really would be roughing it, wouldn’t it, lol. Star City is bad enough!!”_

 _In truth, though, Lance loved Russia. It wasn’t what he was used to, but that was what he’d been looking for when he came here. The people whose job it was to look after the money were sometimes cool to him, but mostly he got along with everyone just fine. Most of the Russians he met were down to earth and practical, with a sense of the absurd and an ability to laugh at themselves that rivaled Chris’s. Their attitude towards bureaucracy awed Lance with its combination of resignation and black humor._

 _Being in a boyband was actually good preparation for all of this, Lance discovered. He was adept at figuring out what was expected of him, working hard, and dealing with people who didn’t take him seriously. It wasn’t all that different from being on tour, really._

 _Lance was sorry he was going to miss Challenge in July, but he wasn’t entirely unhappy about it. He kept thinking that if only he could see Justin again, make one more attempt to get him to listen, this time it would work and everything would be fine. They’d had some space, some time, and certainly, plenty of distance. Justin should have gotten over things by now. Challenge would have been the perfect opportunity to try again, to persuade Justin not to throw away all the years they’d been together. But the people in charge of his training said no, he’d started late, he was already too far behind, and he couldn’t take time off now. And that was fine, really._

 _As long as Lance didn’t have a chance to confront Justin, he could still hope that when he finally did, Justin would be ready to hear him._

*

JC hands Justin a cup of steaming tea with a sympathetic grimace. Justin nods shortly at him in thanks, looking frustrated. “It’s not like it’s going to do any good,” he croaks miserably.

“Shut up, Timberlake,” Chris says cheerfully. “Using your vocal cords to bitch isn’t going to help either. Save ‘em for the show tonight.”

Lance watches Justin sink gloomily back into the couch cushions. It’s only their fifth concert, and Justin’s voice is already getting rough. He hasn’t sung this extensively or this many days in a row since his SexyBack tour a couple of years ago, and although they’re all of the opinion that it’s just going to take a little time for him to build up his stamina again, it’s making him understandably grumpy.

Lance has a sudden desire to go over to the couch and kiss Justin’s bad temper away. He used to be able to do it easily, but that’s not the way things are this time around.

Instead, he smiles at JC and says, “So Tyler’s getting married? When did this happen?”

Justin lets himself be diverted, and soon, the four of them are laughing hysterically at JC’s impression of Karen’s reaction to the news that her youngest son is getting married.

“That’s exactly the expression she had on her face, too,” Chris chortles. “I thought my mom was gonna die.”

“She was just surprised, is all,” JC laughs. “She didn’t expect it to ever happen, I don’t think.”

“Tyler,” whispers Justin, sipping his tea. “He was the most obnoxious little kid.”

“Look who’s talking, dawg. You were no slouch in the obnoxious little kid department, yourself,” JC says, raising his eyebrows.

“Justin was never a little kid,” Lance corrects with a smile. “He was born old and wise in the ways of the world.”

Justin gazes at him from across the Quiet Room, his face expressionless. Lance feels the smile slip off his face as he looks down at his hands. No one else seems to notice, and then Joey comes noisily into the room, talking on his cell phone.

“Bri, you and Mom can come see me next week. Mommy already has the plane tickets.” He rolls his eyes at Lance. “Yeah, sure. Here.” He hands the phone to Lance.

“Are you gonna be there, too?” Bri’s voice is in his ear, and Lance laughs.

“Sure, baby. I’ll be there.”

“And Justin?” she demands.

“And Justin,” he assures her. “We’ll all be here, Bri. You can watch us sing, okay?” He’s aware of Justin’s eyes on him still, again, seemingly always. “Here’s your dad back, okay? Bye, darlin.’” Lance makes a kissing noise into the phone, then hands it back to Joey.

Lance and Justin regard each other seriously for an endless moment, until Justin smiles, and Lance smiles back with relief.

*

 _Justin loved London. He seriously thought he might like to live here one day. He wasn’t sure about the whole driving on the other side of the road thing, and he would never consider driving in London himself. He wasn’t that insane._

 _He spent the afternoon shopping for his mother and grandmother, and Dewayne helped him negotiate the hotel lobby with his packages. Once he was in his room, he decided to grab a shower before meeting Christina for dinner. The phone on the table next to the bed rang shrilly, startling him. He wasn’t expecting anyone to call._

 _When Dewayne’s voice said in his ear, “Lance is here,” Justin had no idea what he meant._

 _“Lance?” he repeated stupidly._

 _“He’s in the lobby. At the desk, getting a room,” Dewayne informed him. “He asked me to tell you he was here.”_

 _“Um,” Justin said._

 _“Should I bring him up?” Dewayne asked helpfully. He was starting to sound curious. “Justin?”_

 _“Um, sure. Bring him up,” Justin said numbly. He didn’t know what else to say._

 _He took a very quick shower, not knowing how long it would take them to get up here, and not wanting to be caught either sweaty and disheveled from the day, or in a fucking towel when Lance showed up. What the hell was he doing here?_

 _Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door of his suite. Justin stood in the middle of the room, still clutching the sweater he hadn’t put on yet, not wanting to answer it, knowing he pretty much had to. He finally strode forward and opened the door wide, smiling for Dewayne’s benefit and saying, “Lance! Come in, man. Good to see you!” It was the worst acting job of his life._

 _Lance smiled uncertainly, and came in. Justin smiled at Dewayne. “Thanks, dude.” Dewayne nodded and Justin shut the door in his face. He waited, just breathing, holding onto the doorknob as if it were an anchor._

 _He turned around when Lance said softly, “Hey.” They studied each other across the room. Lance looked like shit. He was gaunt, there was no other word for it. There were gray shadows around his red-rimmed eyes, and he looked like he’d been on a three-day bender. His jeans hung loosely around his waist, barely holding on to his hips. He was pale, and there was something in his eyes that looked like defeat. It hurt Justin to look at him._

 _“Hey.”_ What are you doing here _, he wanted to say, but he didn’t. He watched Lance and just waited. The tension in the room grew, and finally Lance cleared his throat and looked away._

 _“I finished the program. I’m on my way home.”_

 _Justin nodded. “Congratulations. That's great.” Lance snorted faintly and Justin wanted to pull the words back in. He said, “No, really, I mean it. You did it. You’re a certified cosmonaut and that’s really something. Don’t let them…” he trailed off at the fierce expression on Lance’s face._

 _“I’m tired, is all, Justin. I’m fine,” he asserted firmly. Justin nodded again._

 _“I know. You do look a little rough around the edges, though, dude. When was the last time you slept?” Justin said lightly, trying for a casual tone._

 _Lance shrugged. “Traveling will do that.”_

 _“I know.” Justin didn’t think he’d ever felt more awkward in his whole life, standing here with Lance, trying to have this conversation. He still didn’t understand why Lance was here._

 _“Are you-” Lance gestured vaguely at the sweater Justin still clutched in his hand. “It’s almost time- I mean, do you have plans for dinner?”_

 _“Um, yeah, Christina and I-” he broke off, not sure what to say. Did Lance expect him to change his plans?_

 _“Oh, sure,” Lance said hastily. “Right. That’s fine. Maybe I’ll see you later, then?” He made as if to move toward the door. Justin didn’t say anything to stop him. Lance looked at him a moment longer, his expression unreadable, then he nodded once and reached for the doorknob. Justin clenched his jaw tightly to stop the words that would make him stay from coming out._

 _The careful set of Lance’s shoulders as he left Justin’s room almost made him change his mind._

*

Since three out of the five of them have houses in LA, they’ve scheduled several days here around the concert. It gives them all a chance to check on things, pick up any stray mail that managed to find its way here instead of to Orlando, or water their plants and make sure their plumbing is still working, Chris says, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously as he and JC leave for JC’s house.

Lance feels weird being back in LA. It’s been at least a month since he was here, when he’d flown out in preparation for their upcoming tour. He and Wendy had spent three days winding down several of the business ideas he’d been working on. He’d just begun to formulate plans, to rough out some ideas for movies and TV shows with several different producers and networks when he agreed to go to Orlando last year. He’s only nominally been on top of things since last summer, and there really isn’t much for him to do anymore, which is kind of depressing, but he decides not to think about it. He’s actually enjoying being NSYNC again, and he thinks he’ll just go with that for the time being.

No, the really hard part is the proximity of his favorite clubs, and the knowledge of what’s waiting for him if he goes out. He can barely remember the last time he got laid, and he’d really, really like to. He’s just not sure it’s worth it. For some reason, he’s never been able to hide it from Justin when he has sex, no matter how hard he tries. He really doesn’t want to upset Justin at this point in the tour. The painful memories of the Celebrity tour are indelibly etched in his heart, and he’s already noticed that this time around, the slightest bit of dissention or hint of a disagreement among any of them is enough to make his palms sweaty.

If he’s honest with himself, he likes it that Justin gets bitchy when he thinks Lance has hooked up. He’s nowhere near ready to even think about the possibilities of what that could mean. He’s been down that path before and it leads to nothing but heartache, but he’s starting to be intrigued rather than annoyed by the possessive look in Justin’s eye when he glares at Lance.

Kelly has business out here, which is why she and Briahna chose to fly out and join them this week. Joey is off somewhere with his two girls for the night, and Lance doesn’t want to spend the evening in his empty house by himself. He’s gotten used to being with the other four again, and he doesn’t feel like being alone. Maybe he should just call Wendy and see what she’s doing, instead of hitting the clubs. Before he can make a decision, his phone rings. He checks the caller ID and sees Justin’s name.

“J?” he answers, surprised.

“Hey. Um, are you doing anything for supper tonight, man?” Justin sounds like he’s talking inside a cavern, and Lance can hear footsteps echoing around a huge empty space.

“Where are you?” Lance asks curiously.

“My house,” Justin says.

“Why does it sound like it’s empty?” Lance is puzzled. The last he knew, Justin’s house had plenty of furniture in it.

“Because it is. Lance, you knew I put it on the market a couple of months ago. It finally, you know, sold last week.” There’s a pause, and then, “You knew this. I’ve fucking talked about this.” Justin sounds frustrated.

Lance has a vague recollection of Justin rambling on to JC, or maybe it was Chris, about realtors, and something about the real estate market in Los Angeles in general, he thought, but he swears that’s all. There was nothing about Justin selling his house, he’s sure.

“Never mind,” Justin says. “It’s not important.” There’s silence on the line, and Lance doesn’t know how to fill it. Justin sighs. “Listen, I was going to go grab something to eat, and I wondered, well, if you wanted to go with me.” This last is said very quickly.

Lance blinks, taken aback. Eat dinner with Justin? Just the two of them, alone? Could they really do that? God, he wants to, so much. If nothing else, he would like to be friends with Justin again.

“Okay,” he says hurriedly, before he can chicken out.

They end up going to an out-of-the-way Chinese restaurant that reminds Lance of the place in Star City he and Freddy used to go sometimes. Lance spends a good part of the meal telling stories about Russia, encouraged by Justin’s questions. He realizes that they’ve never really talked about it before, not in any detail. Certainly they hadn’t talked about it the day he’d shown up in London after he left Russia. He’d gone to Justin because he was the nearest one, because Lance needed someone, and because it was a habit to go to Justin when he was hurt. It had been a mistake. Justin hadn’t been ready, and it had made everything much worse.

As they leave the restaurant, laughing at Lance’s imitation of Monsieur Clerc’s long-ago frustrated French, Lance asks Justin if he’s going to the hotel the tour has booked, since his house is devoid of furniture.

“Nah, man, I’m sleeping at Trace’s tonight,” Justin chuckles. “He wanted to rough it at my house, like, you know, fucking camp out or something, but I told him my back’s not spending the night on any floor. He has a guest room, and he can damn well let me use it.” He laughs, sounding happy and carefree, and the sound makes something in Lance’s chest loosen.

Lance goes back to his house alone, but he feels better than if he’d spent the evening getting his dick sucked in the bathroom of some club.

For the first time in a long time, he allows himself to think about Justin when he jerks off in bed that night. He hasn’t forgotten how Justin tastes, or how he feels, not for a minute, but thinking about it, remembering how it was while he touches himself is a luxury he rarely indulges in. It hurts too much, even after all this time.

But tonight seems different, and it feels good, and afterwards, he goes to sleep before the usual regrets can overwhelm him.

*

 _There was a party that night, which Lance found out about from Dewayne. Lance went, and he got drunk very, very quickly. Justin and Christina were both there, holding court. Lance thought touring with Christina was a stroke of genius on Justin’s part._

 _Lance had hoped to stay a few days, but now he knew he’d be going home soon. He’d hoped-well, he’d hoped a lot of things, all of them apparently wrong._

 _Lance was in the bathroom, taking a piss, when Justin came in. He stopped when he caught sight of Lance standing at one of the urinals. “It’s okay, Justin. I’m done,” Lance waved a drunken hand at him airily. “I’m out of here, I’ll leave you to it.”_

 _Justin just stared at him, which annoyed Lance into speaking again. “What? What are you looking at?” he asked belligerently. Justin shook his head and turned to leave. Lance felt anger bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. He was maybe too drunk for this encounter, maybe already too raw with disappointment and failure, but he didn’t care._

 _“What’s the matter, J? Afraid to piss with me in here? Afraid I might look at your dick?” Lance laughed humorlessly. “I’ve already seen it, you know. It’s not that fucking great.” He zipped up and turned to negotiate the long walk to the sinks. Why did they put them so far away from the urinals?_

 _Lance reached the sink at the same time Justin reached the door, and suddenly Lance panicked. This could be his one and only chance ever. “Please,” he blurted out. “Justin, please. Wait a minute, okay?” When Justin didn’t move, Lance drew a deep breath and clinging tightly to the edge of the sink, continued. “I know you hate me. I know I screwed up. But, please, can’t we try it again? All those years, Justin. Everything. Please?”_

 _“Don’t.” Justin held up both hands, as if to ward off Lance’s words. “Once was enough. It didn’t work out. End of story. Let it go.”_

 _“Was it the fact that it was another guy? Is that it? Did it make a difference because Wade wasn’t a girl?”_

 _“Yes! No! I don’t know! But I’m not doing it again, Lance. Once was enough,” he said harshly._

 _“Justin, please,” and now Lance grabbed at Justin’s arm, thinking that if he could only touch him, it would be okay. It always used to be. One touch, and no matter how mad they were, they couldn’t help themselves, one touch was enough to make them forget why they were fighting. Justin jerked roughly away, and Lance staggered backwards, bumping into the wall. Justin’s eyes met his one more time, he shook his head, and then he was gone. Lance slid down the wall, feeling the room spin alarmingly. “Chickenshit,” he muttered to himself. Justin was just a big chickenshit._

 _He stayed there, sitting on the floor, with his head lolling against the wall, until he heard voices. He found himself being helped to his feet, the room still spinning ominously._

 _Then he was in a stall, propped up against the wall, using the hand that was buried in someone’s hair for balance. There was coarse stubble rhythmically grazing the inside of Lance’s thigh, and he looked down to see the head in his hand bob in and out of his field of vision._

 _Lance barely remembered coming, and he didn’t remember if he reciprocated or not. He wasn’t even sure how he ended up back at the hotel, in the room he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to use. As he passed out, sprawled across the bed, all he could remember was the bleak look in Justin’s eyes as he walked away._


	21. Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **smell: a:** the quality that makes a thing perceptible to the olfactory sense **b:** to have a characteristic aura or atmosphere **c:** the characteristic odor given off by a substance, person, or plant **d:** to perceive odor or scent through stimuli affecting the olfactory nerves

_The smell of roses was overwhelming and it was making Lance’s nose run. He looked around the room, searching for both a box of tissues and Britney. He could barely find either among all the bouquets and vases full of flowers that covered every available surface of Britney’s hotel suite._

 _Las Vegas didn’t do anything half-way, Lance thought with amusement. Not even the flowers they provided to commemorate a short-lived, spur of the moment, pretend wedding to an old high school playmate._

 _He peered around an enormous arrangement of pink roses and located Britney at last. She was curled up in a corner of the couch, tissues clutched in her hand, sniffling sadly. Her bare feet were tucked under her, and her face was tear-streaked and free of makeup. Lance thought she looked about twelve years old. Crossing the room to the couch, dodging flowers along the way, he bent down and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Then he shook his head at her. “Britney Jean, what_ did _you do?”_

 _Britney threw him a dirty look. “Don’t you give me a hard time, too,” she pouted._

 _“Not me,” Lance assured her. How could he? He didn’t always make the smartest decisions in the world, either. He had no room to talk._

 _“What’re you doing here?” Britney asked him between hiccupy little sobs._

 _“I just wanted to come and see if you were doing okay, honey,” Lance told her._

 _“No, I’m not doing okay,” Britney said irritably. “I feel like shit, and everyone’s mad at me.” She sighed. “They already made Jason go back home to Louisiana.”_

 _She looked small and sad, and Lance couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. He sat with her through the long afternoon, while the people around her made decisions about her life without consulting her or taking into consideration what she might actually want._

 _They’d been through a lot together, him and Britney. Lance still thought of her as his friend. They had a lot of things in common, he thought, as he held her hand and listened to her cry._

*

“What the hell is that stench?” JC demands as he boards the bus after the concert.

“Bass is teaching me how to make his mama’s fried chicken,” Chris says, pointing a tuna-covered finger at Lance, who’s sitting at the table with a bottle of water and an apple in front of him.

“I am not,” Lance protests laughingly. “That smell is entirely Chris’s doing.”

And indeed, Chris is standing at the small stove, stirring a noxious-smelling mixture of boxed macaroni and cheese, a can of tomatoes, a can of tuna, and a lot of garlic. Lance knows it’ll taste fabulous when it’s done, but in the meantime, cooking canned tuna is never a good idea in an enclosed area like a bus kitchen.

“I need my post-show carbs,” insists Chris. JC comes up behind him and wraps one arm around his waist, pushing Chris’s hair off his neck with the other. JC plants a soft kiss on the exposed nape and Chris actually blushes. Lance looks away, staring out the window at the lights of the venue as the bus pulls onto the highway. The other bus is right behind them, and Lance wishes he could see inside, through the tinted windows, to where Justin and Joey are.

Chris’s post-concert concoction does taste wonderful, and Lance is properly groggy when he’s finished eating, sleepy enough to overcome the restlessness that threatens to keep him from sinking into his bunk and letting the rhythm of the road lull him to sleep. He hears JC and Chris’s voices from out in the lounge, rising and falling in a counter-rhythm to the bus tires. Then that too fades away, and although he wakes up once to the sound of a hoarse cry and a muffled groan, followed by a quiet laugh and a whispered, “Shhh, you’ll wake Lance up,” he mostly sleeps okay.

Lance is restless because he’s not used to being alone while they’re on tour. With the Celebrity tour being the obvious exception, he’s used to being with someone, being with Justin, and he’s surprisingly lonely, even on a bus with JC and Chris. He spends a lot of time wondering what Joey and Justin are doing over on their bus.

It’s not so bad when the schedule keeps them in a hotel for a night or two, because then he can spend time with Joey. They’re working on some things for when this tour is over, they have an idea or two for another TV show, or maybe they’ll finally get around to the comedy album Joey’s been threatening to do for years. None of them thinks this reunion is permanent, but now that they know they can all scatter to do their own thing, and then come back together whenever they want, it’s actually very freeing.

Lance spends a lot of his time thinking about Justin. They’ve been apart now longer than they were together, and Lance tries not to see any significance in that fact. It doesn’t mean anything, really.

Lance wakes up the following morning to find that JC and Chris never made it to their bunks. They’re tangled together on the couch, nothing but JC’s hair showing above the edge of the blanket that’s covering them. Lance is happy for them, whatever it is they’re doing, love, fuckbuddies, he’s not sure at this point, and he suspects they aren’t either, but it makes him feel all the more alone.

He starts the coffeemaker and ducks into the bathroom. By the time he gets out, the dark aroma of brewing coffee has done its job and woken the other two up. Chris stretches, arms high over his head, and yawns widely. He catches Lance’s eye, and blushes again as Lance looks pointedly between him and JC, but he tilts his chin up defiantly until Lance smiles. Then he grins back and slaps JC on the ass through the blanket he’s buried under.

“Time to wake up, C,” he says, still smiling at Lance.

Chris rarely blushes, so it must be love, Lance decides. Who would have guessed? “Coffee’s ready, C,” Lance tells him. He hears an answering groan coming from the huddled form under the blanket. Some things never change.

*

 _Lance watched in fascinated dismay as Justin ripped the red bodice off Janet’s breast in super-slow motion, exposing her nipple for what seemed like the twentieth time in the past fifteen minutes. He gazed, horrorstruck, at the nipple ornament Janet was wearing, shown on every TV channel from CNN to CBS to ESPN in excruciating, loving detail. He listened indignantly as commentators gleefully described the incident, virtuously pontificated on the sure sign of the moral decay of Western civilization exemplified by the tawdry half-time show in general and Justin and Janet’s actions in particular, and sanctimoniously decried the inherent chauvinism and racism in a white male so crudely exposing the breast of a black woman._

 __A wardrobe malfunction? _Oh, Justin._

 _Lance couldn’t quite suppress a small smile at the frenzy, even though he knew how it was affecting Justin. He could read Justin’s facial expressions better than anyone, and the brief flash of_ see how cool I am _had quickly given way to_ oh shit, what have I done _as he hustled Janet off the stage, having draped his jacket around her like the true Southern gentleman his mama had raised him to be._

 _Lance could sense that this was going to be big. And not in a good way. This had the aura of a catastrophe about it, and Justin was right in the eye of the media hurricane it was going to produce._

 _Lance hoped Cameron was up to the job of getting Justin through this. He was half-tempted to call her up and give her some pointers. Justin was bound to try and bluff his way around the issues, relying on his charm and likeability, his smile and his sense of humor. He was well-liked in the entertainment industry, and that would help with the backlash. That had always worked for him before, although he’d never had to deal with anything of this magnitude before. He would be just fine._

 _The last thing Lance expected from Justin was a subdued retreat._

 _“This really stinks,” he fumed to Jesse, who rolled his eyes at him, since that was about the tenth time in an hour Lance had said the same thing. They watched the interview with the guy who caught Justin just as he was coming out of rehearsals for the Grammy Awards. Lance was an expert at knowing when Justin was close to tears, and when he talked about his grandmother, that’s when Lance was convinced Justin hadn’t known what Janet was going to do. “That bitch.”_

 _He ended up watching the Grammys on the phone with his mother, holding his breath while Justin apologized. Lance didn’t think he’d ever loved JC more than he did at the moment he leapt to his feet with Lynn at his side, the two of them applauding madly for their boy. The cold fury in his mother’s voice made Lance glad he wasn’t Janet. No one was more formidable than his mother when one of her own was hurt, and Justin was hers almost as much as Lance and Stacy were._

 _There wasn’t a thing in the world Lance could do about any of it. Not one, single thing._

 _Justin wasn’t used to failure. He didn’t know how it felt, hadn’t experienced much of it before this. The closest he’d come was when the Mouse Club had been cancelled, or maybe when he’d lost on Star Search. Come to think of it, the expression on his ten year old face when he’d heard his score and had to smile graciously at the girl who won had been remarkably similar to the look he’d worn while apologizing to America for the cardinal sin of exposing a female nipple to the virgin eyes of its children during a violent game played by men on drugs and surrounded by cheerleaders whose main talent was how well their tits bounced._

 _Not that Lance felt strongly about it or anything._

 _Justin went through life assuming hard work and talent were enough to conquer anything. Lance knew better. He’d learned that failure was indeed sometimes an option. It was also survivable. Now it looked like Justin was about to learn that very same lesson._

 _A week after the Grammy Awards, Lance’s cell phone rang in the middle of the night. He fumbled for it in the darkness, grabbing it off his bedside table, almost dropping it on the floor. Lance squinted, trying to see the number. He thought it was blocked, but he was too sleepy to really care. “Hello?” he said, trying unsuccessfully to smother a yawn._

 _There was no answer, but Lance could hear someone breathing. He waited a minute or two for whoever it was to say something. When they didn’t, he spoke again._

 _“Hello? Is anyone there?” Lance thought he heard the breathing hitch, and there was a definite sniff. Lance sighed, and Jesse rolled over in bed, opening his eyes and peering blearily up at him._

 _“Who is it?” he asked sleepily. The breathing on the other end of the phone stopped abruptly. Lance held his own breath and shook his head at Jesse._

 _“It’s okay,” he said quietly into the phone. He could hear the breathing softly resume. “Really. Everything’s going to be okay.” He listened for a few more minutes, and then he hung up._

*

Justin frowns into his drink as he watches Lance dance on top of the table in the middle of the VIP section of the club, grinning down at all the encouraging faces below him. It’s been a long time since Justin’s seen this, although it used to be a pretty common occurrence. Whether it’s at private parties or public events like Challenge, Lance seems to have an affinity for table tops and bar tops, once he gets a few of the right kind of drinks in him.

Justin has no idea why Lance does this, but there’s enough photographic evidence to provide blackmail material for life, if Lance cared, which he doesn’t. Not anymore.

Justin used to think Lance was reckless. Now he knows that Lance is fearless.

Justin’s the one who came into this whole reunion thing with plans, plans that he really hasn’t done a whole lot about yet. He suspects Lance was right about him all those years ago. He’s a big chickenshit about stuff when the outcome isn’t a sure thing. It’s been almost a year since they gathered in Orlando to begin recording _Back to Back,_ and while he and Lance are no longer engaged in the silent guerilla warfare of the last seven years, Justin really only has a fragile peace between them to show for the time he’s invested.

Well, no, that’s not true. He has peace with all of them, peace with NSYNC, and peace with his own heart. That’s something, but it’s not everything he wants.

Lance’s face is flushed and he’s almost helpless with giggles as he tumbles off the table into the arms of, well, several of the people surrounding the table. They put him safely on his feet, and he looks around happily until someone hands him another drink.

Justin checks the place out for somebody Lance could potentially hook up with, but he doesn’t see anyone who really looks like Lance’s usual type. He turns back to his drink and realizes JC is watching him with a knowing smile on his face. “Shut up,” Justin scowls.

JC snickers. Justin sets his drink down on the table with a resounding thunk, and it sloshes over the side of the glass, making JC’s smile grow even wider. Justin bites his lip to keep from giving in and smiling back at him, and says, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He heads off in the direction of the VIP restrooms just as Chris bounces over to their table, grinning merrily at JC, his bandana wildly askew and his hair sticking out on all sides. Good timing, Justin thinks. He’s lucky to have escaped before JC has a chance to tell Chris what he’s laughing at. The two of them together are becoming a bit obnoxious, now that Chris has decided that love doesn’t automatically fuck everything up.

It’s a nice bathroom in a nice club, but it’s still a public restroom, and the smell of disinfectant is noticeable, at least to Justin. He’s staring at himself in the mirror while he dries his hands, trying to decide if those tiny lines around his eyes make him look old and tired or wise and experienced, when Lance comes in, laughing at someone on the other side of the door.

He stops when he sees Justin. They watch each other warily for a moment, then Lance smiles. In fact, he laughs and shakes his head in rueful amusement. Justin relaxes and smiles back at him in the mirror. He turns around, bracing his hands on the sink behind him and says, “Hey.”

Lance eyes him speculatively. He comes a little closer, tilting his head to the side. “Hey.” It’s not the biggest bathroom Justin has ever been in, and he suddenly finds himself practically pinned between Lance and the sink.

Justin hasn’t been this close to Lance in years, not like this. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of Lance, his soap, his expensive cologne, and underneath it, the warm, sweet smell that makes him Lance. He’s still using the same soap he always did, and the sense memory takes Justin back to all those times, all those years when Lance’s soap was something he smelled everyday. Justin closes his eyes and remembers.

Lance reaches out and tentatively touches Justin’s cheek with a careful hand and Justin’s eyes fly open. Lance’s eyes are wide and Justin sees fear in them, but Lance doesn’t draw back. He cups Justin’s cheek, and his hand is shaking. His thumb traces over Justin’s lower lip, and oh, God, Justin remembers this.

Justin can’t help himself, and he leans forward and kisses him, the barest touch of his lips, and he pulls back quickly, afraid of what Lance’s reaction will be.

Lance licks his lips, his tongue swiping over them once, then again, his eyes never leaving Justin’s. Lance has had a few drinks, but he’s not drunk, and Justin remembers how that goes, how pliant and accommodating that makes him. Lance closes the distance between them again, and this time the kiss lasts longer, more than just a simple touch.

Justin has never forgotten how Lance tastes, or how his mouth feels under his own. They move together, Lance’s lips soft and sweet, his tongue tasting Justin’s mouth, his teeth catching Justin’s lower lip, nipping slightly, his tongue tracing an apology across it.

They’re not touching anywhere else, just their lips and Lance’s warm palm on Justin’s face. Justin sucks Lance’s thumb into his mouth, and it tastes like lime and salt.

Justin kisses across Lance’s jaw, behind his ear, then buries his face in Lance’s neck, breathing him in.

Lance finally pulls back, his mouth wet and his eyes dark. He caresses Justin’s cheek one last time, then he turns and walks out the door.

Justin’s still leaning against the sink, and he’s trying to catch his breath, but it’s not easy. He touches his hand to his mouth, and his lips feel bruised, although he knows they’re not.

He kissed Lance, and Lance didn’t deck him, didn’t tell him to fuck off, didn’t walk away.

Lance kissed him back.

Justin thinks that’s an excellent thing. He’s not a chickenshit at all, and he has a kick-ass plan.

Lance doesn’t dance on any more tables tonight, but every time he looks at Justin, his eyes light up, and that’s enough for Justin.


	22. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **secret: a:** kept from knowledge or view **b:** marked by the habit of discretion **c:** revealed only to the initiated **d:** not being open or declared **e:** specific key to a desired end

Justin is watching him again. Lance smiles to himself and keeps doing what he’s doing, which is working out on the elliptical machine tucked in the corner of the Quiet Room. Justin is lifting weights, and Lance would be worried that he’ll hurt himself if it wasn’t for JC wasn’t spotting him.

Actually, JC is waiting for his turn with the weights more than he’s making sure Justin doesn’t drop something heavy on his foot. “Justin!” he says sharply, drawing Justin’s attention back to his bicep curls and away from Lance’s ass. He makes a _come on, get on with it_ motion with his hand and Justin scowls.

“Go wait somewhere else, JC. You’re getting in my way.”

JC rolls his eyes and follows Justin’s gaze back to Lance’s ass. “Right.” He stands up and parks himself between Justin and Lance. “You’re done, dude. Put the weights down and go take a shower.” The unspoken “cold” shower is unmistakable, hard to miss. He turns and winks at Lance as Justin grunts through one more set of reps and then stops, abandoning the weights and wiping his face on a towel.

“There, thanks for being so patient,” he grouses at JC, then departs with an air of injured dignity, without making eye contact with either one of them. Lance shakes his head at JC. He doesn’t want JC’s teasing to discourage Justin. Lance is enjoying the attention.

But he doesn’t say anything, because no one but he and Justin knows what happened the other night in the bathroom of the club they’d gone to. Acting all covert, at least around the other guys, is not something Lance is at all good at, but he can be a model of discretion when he really tries. He’s decided this is something for him and Justin to either work out or not, and the last thing they need is for the other three to put in their two cents worth, at least this early on. Lance isn’t delusional enough to think they can keep it on the down-low forever, though, not around three of the nosiest people God ever created. He sighs and looks at JC, grinning to himself like the dork he is as he chooses a set of weights from the rack, probably working out how best to embellish what he thinks he saw when he tells Chris and Joey about it.

Lance figures they probably have two days, maybe three, tops, to get their shit together.

He still isn’t sure it wasn’t a mistake to let Justin kiss him. He knows very well that sex doesn’t solve anything, and can, in fact, make things worse. Much worse, if their past experience is anything to go by. But this time feels different. For starters, it wasn’t sex, it was just a kiss. A kiss with no hidden agendas, a kiss that neither one of them was using to send a message or establish a claim.

It was, in fact, one of their more successful bathroom encounters, Lance thinks, smiling reminiscently.

By the time Justin gets out of the shower, Lance is done with his cardio, and he’s all sweaty and gross. There was a time, a lifetime or two ago, when Lance would have joined Justin in the shower, and the other guys would have given them the space and privacy for that. He and Justin used to think they were getting away with something, that no one knew that somewhere back in the showers at whatever venue they were playing, Lance had Justin pinned against the wall, fucking him hard, one hand around his dick and the other covering his mouth to keep him quiet, until one day Joey laughed at him and asked Lance if he ever wondered why they’d never been interrupted.

Lance tries to shake off those memories, because they make him want Justin with a desperation he thought he’d left behind a long time ago. But if nothing else, he’s learned patience over the past few months. He can wait. He thinks this time it may be worth it.

*

“So your plan is basically to just stare at him until he falls swooning into your arms, do I have that right?”

If Chris wasn’t his best friend, Justin would have clobbered him a long time ago. “No, asshole, that’s not my plan. And how do you even know I have a plan?”

Chris snorts derisively. “It’s you, of course you have a plan. That’s the secret to your success, always having a plan. And C says you’re being pretty obvious about-”

“Shut up,” Justin interrupts indignantly. “I am not. And I do not. Have a plan, I mean. Why would I need a plan?” Justin sucks at bluffing around Chris, he knows this.

“Please. Don’t make me laugh.” Chris grins at Justin. “But I’d keep trying that staring thing if I were you. Really, don’t give up. It’s sure to work eventually.”

Justin puts an end to the conversation by using the time-honored method of throwing his sweat-soaked towel in Chris’s face and then running like hell toward the buses. Chris is hard on his heels, screeching about revenge. For someone who goes on and on about his advanced age, Chris has a tendency to revert to childish behavior at the slightest provocation.

Justin locks himself in the bathroom, using up more than his fair share of the hot water, while he lets JC calm Chris down. Chris eyeballs Justin darkly when he comes out, wrapped in a towel, but since JC’s hand is working it’s way down the front of Chris’s pants and JC’s tongue is doing something to his ear that Chris seems to like, Justin figures he’s pretty safe, at least for the time being.

He ducks back toward the bunks to get dressed, giving Chris and JC a modicum of privacy that they don’t deserve in the least. As he slides his sweat pants up over his hips, he wonders if maybe things would have been different if he and Lance had shared a bus before. If they’d been able to just relax and share space, and not have to hide, and pretend, and wait for the opportunity to be together. If they hadn’t had to be so damn secretive about the whole thing.

He thinks Chris and JC are pretty lucky, and he hopes they appreciate it.

*

 _Joey and Kelly were lucky, Justin thought. They had all their friends and family here, together, to celebrate their wedding. They had a beautiful daughter, and the world smiled at them and laughed with them, and nobody frowned, or told them they were sinful, or that they loved the wrong person._

 _Joey and Kelly didn’t have to hide. Joey had been a teen idol, had had a child out of wedlock at the height of his fame, and it was all fine. No worries._

 _Not many people knew Justin was coming to the wedding. He’d pretty much kept it a secret from everyone but JC. He didn’t want the whole thing to turn into a media circus, to be about him, or NSYNC. Cameron had decided to stay away for the same reason, although they knew there would be press speculation about her absence._

 _Joey’s wedding should not be about Justin, but Justin didn’t know how to insure that it wasn’t._

 _“Fuck it, C. I can’t win either way.” JC was pretty much the only one of the guys who was talking to him these days. After the meeting following this year’s Challenge in Miami, when Justin had closed the door on an new NSYNC album for the foreseeable future, Joey and Chris had not been happy with him. JC had agreed that the timing wasn’t really right for them to try to record and release something right then, although Justin didn’t know how sincere he was. He thought maybe JC was just trying to keep the peace._

 _Lance, whom Justin had done his best to avoid, and had in fact managed to go through an entire weekend without a conversation, or pretty much any interaction that wasn’t public with, had merely set his jaw and coolly stared at him while Justin listed the reasons why he wasn’t interested in getting back together this year. Fucking Lance, who was never more than ten feet away from Jesse, in spite of the C-list actress who did her best to spend the whole time draped all over him, and who fooled no one._

 _Lance had never been as good at the beard thing as Justin was, probably because he didn’t care as much as Justin did._

 _The end result of this top-secret meeting, which had been highly anticipated and hyped by the press, was an article in_ People Magazine _describing how the other four were all mad at him._

 _“I know, J.” JC hesitated. “You know Chris and Joey are gonna be fine, man. And Joey and Kelly will be thrilled to see you at the wedding. You should go.”_

 _So Justin went. It was beautiful, rowdy, and full of fun, just like the bride and groom. Joey cried during his vows, which surprised almost no one, certainly not Justin._

 _Chris may have been pissed, but not too pissed to talk to him. He wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to give Justin a hard time. “Timberlake, nice to see you could make it,” he said coolly, peering at him from under the bill of his hat. Justin couldn’t imagine what Chris had been thinking when he’d gotten dressed. He was definitely the only wedding guest wearing jeans, but Justin figured if Joey and Kelly hadn’t kicked him out, there was no reason for Justin to care._

 _Justin smiled at him tentatively, and after a pause that he was sure was deliberately meant to keep him in suspense, Chris smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you made it,” he whispered in Justin’s ear. Justin blinked back sudden tears and hugged him tight._

 _He wasn’t going to stay long, although Joey’s mom and dad were so delighted to see him that he almost changed his mind. The photographer insisted on taking a picture of them all together, the five of them plus Kelly, and when they were finished with that, Justin put his hand on Joey’s shoulder to stop him from moving away. He gave Joey his best smile and said beseechingly, “Can we talk, man?”_

 _Justin was so convinced that Joey was going to say no, he had half-turned away by the time Joey finally nodded. Joey pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “Over there.”_

 _They were in a small anteroom, with just a couple of chairs and a small table in the middle of the room. Justin looked around, looking everywhere but at Joey. He’d known Joey since he was eleven years old, and now he was at Joey’s wedding, and Joey was mad at him. For a lot of things, Justin thought, eyeing the huge flower arrangement that teetered precariously on the table._

 _Joey gently hooked his fingers under Justin’s chin and turned his head so that Justin had no choice but to look at him. Justin dragged his eyes away from the flowers, and he saw nothing but love on Joey’s face. Joey smiled a watery smile and said, “I’m glad you’re here, J.”_

 _“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything, Joey,” Justin managed to croak past the lump in his throat. He bent his head, resting his forehead on Joey’s shoulder. Joey wrapped his arms comfortably around Justin’s middle, and they stood there like that for a while, just breathing. Finally Joey cleared his throat, and Justin reluctantly pulled back._

 _“You’d better get back to the festivities, man,” Justin said._

 _Joey nodded. “Yeah, I’d better.”_

 _“Be happy, Joey. And be good to your girls.” Justin said._

 _“You know it, J.” Joey kissed him quickly, softly, on the mouth. “Later, man.” He left the room, leaving Justin standing with his eyes closed, trying to regain his composure before he went back out._

 _He found JC before he left, and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, C. I gotta go.”_

 _JC, who was obviously having a very good time, waved his drink happily at him and said, “I love you, man.”_

 _Justin grinned at him. “Love you, too, JC.”_

 _Ten minutes later, he was standing in the big, circular driveway, waiting for his car, when he saw someone in the bushes, apparently sneaking a cigarette. Whoever it was seemed to be watching him, peering intently through the cigarette smoke._

 _As he drove away, his headlights swept around the circle, illuminating the clump of bushes the smoker was lurking behind._

 _It was Lance._

*

 _Moonlighting the Movie_ is the big hit everyone predicted it would be. It’s a light-hearted romantic comedy, a perfect summer date movie. Most of the promo was done before the Back to Back tour started, and Justin had made the rounds of Leno and Letterman, O’Brien and Seacrest, pushing the tour at the same time as he pimped the movie.

Conan gave him a hard time, predictably, and Leno didn’t listen to a word he said, as usual, but Lance figures it helped the tour numbers a lot. It’s a shrewd business move, and Lance fully approves, although he didn’t really enjoy watching the movie clips that show Justin and Cameron bantering and kissing and in general just having a swell time together. He decides it’s one movie he can live without seeing.

Every once in a while, Justin has to fly off to do more promo, and that’s fine, except that Lance never would have expected him to do _TRL_ by himself at this stage of the game.

 _TRL_ isn’t what it once was, what Lance likes to think _they_ helped make it back in the day, but it’s still relevant to success in the music business, and Lance is deeply disappointed in Justin. And highly pissed.

So the next time Justin sends him one of those shy glances and earnest smiles, like it was 1997 all over again, Lance just glares at him and doesn’t smile back. That totally throws him, which Lance knew it would. Justin can’t stand to have someone mad at him and not know why. If he knows why, he can deal with it, which is why Lance is in no hurry to provide him with any explanations.

Let him stew.

Lance knows perfectly well that he’s acting like a five year old over this. The third time Justin says something to him while they’re waiting for soundcheck to start, and Lance refuses to answer him, doesn’t even deign to look at him, Joey’s suddenly in his face, hand over his mic, and this time he’s not using the voice he uses when Briahna has just about pushed everybody’s last buttons. He’s using the voice Kelly uses, and Lance is impressed, and actually a little shaken. The accents may be different, but Kelly doesn’t take any more shit from her kid than Diane ever took from Lance, and he’s inclined to rethink his approach.

Fine. When they’re all gathered back in the Quiet Room to regroup after soundcheck, to discuss any last minute issues with the show, and Justin turns his sad, bewildered eyes on Lance and says, “Lance? Are you mad at me?” Lance is more than happy to share what he knows.

The other three are watching them closely, no one is making any attempt to be subtle about it at all. Lance figures it’s time to get things out in the open anyway. “Yes, Justin, you could say that.”

“But why?” Lance ignores the note of apprehension he hears in Justin’s voice.

“Justin, you’re going on _TRL_ without the rest of us. What the hell do you expect?” Lance can tell from the expressions on the others’ faces that this is news to them.

“What are you talking about? How did you-shit,” Justin breaks off, biting his lip and looking around the room, frowning when he gets a look at the dawning comprehension on Joey’s face.

“How did I find out?” Lance asks. “One of the Assistant Directors is, um, a friend of mine.”

“Right. A friend. I’ll just fucking bet,” Justin snaps, momentarily diverted.

“Justin,” Joey says from his spot on the couch.

“I’m _not_ going by myself!” Justin says defensively. He stands up abruptly. “Fuck. I didn’t say anything yet because, you know, I wasn’t sure I was even fucking going at all. I told them you guys were coming on with me, or I wasn’t showing.” He pauses, frowning. “The damn studio’s pimping the movie, Cameron is on this week. They made arrangements for just me to be on. It never occurred to them to include you guys. And _TRL_ isn’t what it used to be, you know, they didn’t think of it either.” He shakes his head and mutters, “Fucking morons.”

“Did you hear back from them?” JC asks. He’s glancing curiously between Justin and Lance.

“Just this afternoon, yeah. They said fine, and you guys can be surprise guests, and after we get the goddamn movie talk out of the way, I can plug the tour, and you all can come out to talk about it with me.” He looks around at them again, and Lance can see the hurt in his eyes. “Do you really think I’d do that? Do _TRL_ on my own?”

“No, of course not,” says Chris, glaring at Lance and crossing his arms across his chest.

JC shakes his head. “No, honey, I didn’t.” He, too, looks reproachfully at Lance. And that hurts, because JC is hardly ever cross with Lance.

“Sorry, J,” Joey sighs.

“It’s fine,” Justin shrugs. But Lance knows it’s far from fine.

Okay, he’s really made a mess of things. Adrian has obviously passed him old news, or maybe he just wants to cause trouble, although Lance can’t imagine why he would. He’s part of Lance’s network of sources for industry gossip. He and Lance have only hooked up once or twice, and they’re on perfectly friendly terms, as far as Lance can remember.

“Justin, I’m sorry,” Lance says helplessly. He wishes the others would go away, he wants to get Justin alone, to tell him how badly he feels. And he does feel awful. He jumped to conclusions based on unreliable gossip, and instead of asking Justin about it, he just assumed that Justin was still playing the solo game. He has to remember that Justin came to them, they haven’t dragged him back into the group against his will. He isn’t here under duress.

Someway, somehow, Lance is going to have to learn to trust Justin again. He’s never stopped wanting him, never stopped loving him, but he stopped trusting him a long time ago.

“Whatever,” Justin says. He sounds frustrated and defeated.

“I didn’t want to think…” Lance doesn’t know how to finish that sentence without making everything worse.

“But you did,” Justin says flatly. He looks at his watch. “I’m going to go make a few phone calls before I eat.”

It’s a very quiet group that meets to do the pre-show hackey. Lance didn’t realize how much he’s come to depend on the times during the concert that he and Justin make eye contact, until tonight, when Justin avoids him as much as he can onstage. It reminds Lance forcibly of some of the Celebrity concerts, and that’s not something he’s willing to live through again.

Mostly, he misses having Justin’s eyes on him.


	23. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **challenge: a:** to confront or defy boldly **b:** to invite into competition **c:** a stimulating task or problem **d:** to call out to duel or combat

Lance is totally fucked. Okay, maybe not totally. It’s not like everybody hates him, or anything. Even Chris isn’t really mad at him, just kind of exasperated with his inability to realize that they’re all older and wiser and Lance really needs to let go of some of his issues. Lance understands that.

What he doesn’t understand is why _Justin_ is being so nice to him. After the first couple of days of pained silence, during which Lance gave serious thought to deserting the tour, just escaping in the middle of the night without even leaving a note, Justin isn’t just being nice, he’s being kind to him, nodding cheerfully as he passes him the salt at dinner, touching his arm companionably as he hands him a towel backstage after the concert, smiling brightly as he holds the door open for him when they enter the hotel lobby.

“Joey, what is he doing?” Lance demands. “I’m not a girl. Do you think he knows that?”

Joey looks at him strangely. “Um, Lance, if Justin doesn’t remember that you’re not a girl, I’m not sure I wanna know what you guys were doing in the shower for all those years.”

“Shut up,” Lance says mildly, blushing only slightly at the images Joey’s words conjure up. Justin, wet and slick, grinning at Lance as the water beats down on his back, dripping off his eyelashes, while his hands-

“Lance, man, don’t do that,” Joey says hastily, laughing at him. “I can practically see what you’re thinking, and I don’t need the visual.”

“What?” Lance blinks and brings his attention back to the subject at hand. “Oh, right. I’m not a girl. So what the hell is he doing, opening doors for me and handing me things all politely and smiling at me like he’s high on crack or something?”

Joey shrugs. “I don’t know.” He looks pointedly at Lance. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you fucking ask him?”

Obviously, Joey’s not going to be of any real help here. Lance should have known better than to think be would be.

Ask him? Just walk right up to Justin and ask him what’s going on, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking? Like, a confrontation?

As ideas go, it’s probably not the worst one Joey’s ever had, Lance has to admit.

*

For two days after the _TRL_ misunderstanding, Justin is beyond hurt, he’s livid, fuming on the phone to his mother, ranting about Lance, about what an asshole he is, and what was he, Justin, thinking, trying to start over again with someone who’s that big of an idiot. His mother listens, murmuring soothing sounds into the phone, letting him bitch, being properly supportive, right up until the minute she says, “Justin, honey, just shut up.”

Justin is actually shocked into shutting up, and his mother laughs at him until he says, “Hey, no fair, quit it.”

“Sweetie, does Lance have any idea what’s going on in your head? Does he know what you want? Or is he supposed to guess, just because you wrote him a nice song?” Lynn asks, with a hint of asperity.

Justin opens his mouth to protest, but realizes he really doesn’t have a good answer for that. “Well, I was hoping…”

“You were hoping he’d guess, yes, I know. Justin, you made a decision a long time ago,” and now her voice is quietly serious. “You made a decision to walk away and not look back. And you’ve stuck to that all these years, even when Lance tried to get you to change your mind.”

“I know,” Justin answers quietly.

“And now that you have changed your mind, you expect him to just know it?”

“I-“

"Yes, I know, you were hoping,” his mother says wryly, and Justin laughs a little. Her next question is the kicker, though. That’s his mom, never pulling any punches. “Are you afraid he’ll say no?”

Well, of course he is. It’s what he’s been afraid of this whole time. It’s the reason he hasn’t really talked to Lance, not about anything important, since this reunion thing began. Because as long as he’s just there, trying to get Lance to give them another chance based on Justin’s mere presence, he won’t have to know for sure if he fails.

“Justin.” His mother’s voice is kind, but implacable. “Talk to him. It’s time. Like your grandpa always said, shit or get off the pot.” She doesn’t add _and stop complaining about it,_ but she doesn’t really have to.

Justin laughs reluctantly. “Okay, I will. You’re right. _Seriously,_ I _will_.”

But he doesn’t have to do it right this second. Lance is too upset right now, anyway. In spite of his mother’s criticism of his chosen method of courtship, Justin knows Lance was considering the possibilities, and now he feels guilty for reverting to form and thinking the worst of Justin.

Lynn’s right, though. He owes it to Lance to be clear and honest about things.

He’s threatened Chris with dire consequences if he makes Lance feel any worse than he already does, and enlisted JC for enforcement purposes. He smiles at Lance whenever he can, letting him know there’s no hard feelings.

Lance looks more confused than relieved by that, though, and Justin thinks maybe it’s time to follow his mother’s advice.

*

 _Justin wasn’t stupid, nor was he as computer illiterate as some people thought he was. He knew perfectly well that he needed to be upbeat and happy for this Challenge, participating in everything like he was thrilled to be here. He wasn’t, of course, but that was more because of his issues with the CFTC organization than anything else. That, and being afraid of meeting up with Chris’s mom some night in a dark bowling alley._

 _He was almost relieved that Cameron couldn’t get away from LA to come to Chicago with him. Good PR dictated that he be there as a member of NSYNC, not as one-half of_ JustinandCameron, _paparazzi magnet. Especially, he thought sourly, as he eyed the completely inadequate bank of elevators, in this particular hotel._

 _JC had floated the idea of singing the National Anthem again this year, but it had only been three months since Justin’s throat surgery, so he had to tell them that his voice wasn’t bouncing back as quickly as he would have liked. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, because he didn’t like talking about it. As soon as he mentioned it though, JC backed off, and they all agreed bowling and basketball was enough._

 _“No, no, that’s fine, J. I didn’t know, I mean, I thought-oh, hell, I’m sorry, it’s just-” JC ran his hand through his hair, looking upset._

 _“C, it’s fine,” Justin said, rescuing JC from the morass of half-sentences he was trapped in. “I’m sure it’ll get better. I just have to be patient, and that’s, you know, a bit of a challenge for me,” he finished, grimacing._

 _They all murmured sympathetically, and then they didn’t bring it up again, for which he was grateful._

 _Once the weekend was underway, Lance was the only one who mentioned it again._

 _Justin ran into Diane on one of the impossible elevators. He had just decided that there was no way he was going to spend the entire time he was here fucking around with these things, and when he got up to his room he was going send his security to talk to whoever was in charge and make arrangements for him to use the service elevators._

 _“Hey, sweetie,” Diane said, and she looked delighted to see him as she kissed him warmly on the cheek and gave him a big hug._

 _“Hi, Diane,” Justin grinned. They chatted and caught up on family news while the elevator creaked it’s way upwards, opening at every floor. Justin’s security waved the people crowded around the doors away, and Justin could hear them all groaning about having to wait for another elevator._

 _“If we do this again next year, I’m not staying in the hotel unless it has decent elevators,” Justin said darkly._

 _“If?” Diane said, raising her eyebrows in that way she and Lance both had. Justin looked away under her scrutiny._

 _“Well,” he shrugged. “You know.” Diane studied him a moment longer, then nodded._

 _“I know.” The elevator doors slid open and Diane said, “Oh, this is me. I’ll see you later, J.” She kissed him again, and stepped off the elevator into the hallway, where Lance was waiting for her. He frowned when he saw who she was with. The doors slid closed again, cutting off Justin’s view of Lance’s stormy face._

 _All in all, it wasn’t a bad weekend. The best part was Chris and Joey. Justin hadn’t had so much fun with them in, well, in a long time. He’d been hearing some worrisome things about Chris, but he seemed fine to Justin._

 _Justin had an early flight out Sunday morning, and Saturday night he was actually back at the hotel by midnight._

 _He was asleep, or at least he thought he was, but he couldn’t figure out what that aggravating pounding noise was. It wasn’t his head, because he hadn’t had that much to drink._

 _Someone was at the door._

 _He opened one eye and peered at the clock. Three o’clock in the morning. Who the fuck was out in the corridor banging on his door at three o’clock in the morning? His security had been doing a pretty good job of keeping the fans away from his room, but he still wasn’t getting up to see who it was._

 _“Justin. Justin, come on, open up.” It was Lance._

 _He didn’t have to open the door. Lance didn’t even know if Justin was in there or not. Justin could just ignore him until he went away._

 _Or Lance could make a lot more noise and everyone on the floor could wonder why Lance was out in the hallway banging on Justin’s door at three in the morning, and then they could wonder why Justin made him stay out there._

 _He got out of bed and groped his way to the door in the dark. He opened it an inch and said, “What the fuck are you doing?”_

 _“Let me in, Justin.” It was halfway between a plea and demand, and oh shit, Lance wasn’t drunk. He was a lot easier for Justin to handle when he was._

 _Against his better judgment, Justin opened the door and let Lance in. Like a vampire, Justin thought. He’d invited him in, so he couldn’t really protest whatever happened after that._

*

They meet in the hallway, each one on their way to see the other, both of them striding along the hotel corridor with determination. They stop in the middle, staring uncertainly at one another.

“Oh,” Lance says, not sure what to do. “I was, um,” he waves in the direction of Justin’s room. “Just, uh, coming to see you,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh yeah?” Justin says. “Well, _I_ was coming to see _you._ ”

They seem to have reached an impasse. Lance sees Justin’s lips twitch a little and he smiles to himself and says, “Well, come on then. Might as well go to my room,” and he leads the way back down the hall, keys his door open, and ushers Justin inside.

Again, they stand there, regarding each other with wary amusement.

“Listen, Lance, I really think we need to clear up-” Justin starts, while at the same time, Lance says, “Justin, you know I’m not a girl, right?”

“What?” Justin says, scrunching his face up in confusion. He looks kind of cute like that, Lance thinks.

“Stop holding doors open for me. What’s next, flowers?”

Justin colors at that, but he recovers nicely and demands, “Are you on crack?”

“No, but it might not be a bad idea,” Lance says, rubbing his forehead. “Look, this is all making me crazy. _You’re_ making me crazy. What the hell is going on?”

“I always did make you crazy, didn’t I?” Justin grins at him. Lance feigns a scowl back.

“Yes. And not always in a good way.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Start talking.”

Justin sighs. “Can we sit down, at least?”

There’s only one chair in the room, so Lance gestures to Justin to take it, then parks himself on the edge of the bed. “Quit stalling.”

“I’m not!” Then Justin takes a deep breath, blows it out, and takes another one, seemingly fascinated by his shoes. Lance recognizes his standard relaxation breathing technique, and knows he won’t get any answers until Justin’s breathed in and out at least five times.

He waits.

“Here’s the thing. I think I miss you.”

Lance waits some more.

Justin still hasn’t looked up from his shoes, which Lance has to admit are very cool, but not quite as interesting as Justin seems to think they are.

When he realizes there’s nothing more coming, he snaps. “That’s it? You _think_ you _miss_ me? What the fuck, Justin?”

The tips of Justin’s ears, which are pretty much all Lance can see, are pink. At last he looks up and nods sheepishly. “I miss you. I want to, you know, kiss you. I see you and that’s all I can think about, touching you.” He looks at Lance, his eyes clear and bright. “I miss touching you.”

Lance is completely undone by this, this straightforward, uncomplicated declaration. He misses touching Justin, too.

“You know it’s not that simple,” he says.

“Why not?” Justin whispers.

“We’ve already tried that. It didn’t work.” Lance looks away, because if he keeps looking at Justin, he’ll agree to anything, and that would just be stupid.

Justin seems to deflate a bit at that, and he doesn’t say anything else. They sit in silence until Lance can’t take it anymore.

“Here’s the deal, Justin. You can take it or leave it.” He throws the words out like a gauntlet. “We have to talk. We have a hell of a lot of issues, don’t you think?” Justin looks at him, wide-eyed, and nods. “Okay. We can’t just pretend like the last eight years didn’t happen.” Lance waves his hands around like he’s dispensing with those years and all that’s happened between them, but he knows he can’t.

“Lance-”

“Shut up a minute.” Justin frowns at him, and Lance can’t help but grin at him a little. “I’m serious here. I am. But, Justin.” He gets up and crosses the room, standing in front of Justin, gazing down at him. “Justin.” He kneels, and now they’re face-to-face, and he focuses, gravely meeting Justin’s eyes. “I’m not saying no. And we can still do _this._ ” He leans forward, and Justin meets him halfway, and this time it’s not tentative at all, this time it’s like coming home, like finally breathing again after being too long underwater, and Lance closes his eyes and gives himself up to it.

The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough, but Lance makes himself pull away. He puts his hands on Justin’s shoulders and gently pushes him back against the uncomfortable desk chair. He wonders for a fleeting moment why his hotel room is so crappy that it only has one hard-backed chair, and then he forgets all about it when he sees Justin’s face. He used to be able to make Justin look like that all the time.

“We have to take it slow, Justin. You know that.”

“We’ve been doing this for almost a year, Lance,” Justin protests with a grin. “How much slower do you want to take it?”

Lance kisses Justin quickly and stands up. “Don’t be a smartass. You know what I mean. There are things to talk about.”

“I love you,” Justin says simply. And Lance never thought he’d hear those words again, not from Justin, and they’re almost enough.

*

 _Lance spit the words out like a challenge._

 _“When was the last time you got fucked?”_

 _Justin’s head shot up and he glared at Lance. “None of your fucking business.”_

 _“Well, I think it’s been a while. I don’t think you’ve let anybody fuck you since the last time I did it,” Lance said, advancing slowly on Justin._

 _That was true. Justin decided girls were safer and easier after he and Lance ended. Sometimes he missed it, missed the feel of stubble, or the slick glide of a dick in his mouth, or his ass, but most of the time he worked very hard to forget he was bi._

 _But what he really missed was Lance, and now Lance was right there, right there in front of him, offering, and it_ was _an offer, because under the angry façade, Justin could see what Lance really wanted. He wanted to make Justin change his mind._

 _He wasn’t going to, and Justin should say so, should make Lance leave, go back to his own room, so Justin could get safely out of Chicago without doing this._

 _Instead, he grabbed Lance’s wrist and pulled him into his arms, his mouth coming down on Lance’s in a kiss so hard that Justin tasted blood. He had no idea whose it was._

 _They fought over the kiss, each one trying to get the best of the other. Lance bit Justin’s lower lip sharply, and Justin tightened his grip on Lance’s wrist, twisting just a little. Lance grunted and pressed his hips into Justin’s. Justin let go of Lance’s arm and took hold of his hips, pulling him closer still._

 _Lance worked his knee between Justin’s legs and pushed his thigh up, pressing hard and heavy against Justin, and a groan caught in Justin’s throat. Walking them backwards to the bed, Lance pulled Justin’s sleep pants down over his hips to his knees, breaking their kiss just long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head. He pushed Justin onto the bed, and yanked his pants completely off. He glared fiercely down at Justin as he hastily unzipped his jeans with shaking hands. Justin stared stonily back, then deliberately turned over onto his stomach. He might let Lance fuck him, but he wasn’t going to look at him while he did it._

 _Justin heard Lance go still for a moment, and then he heard the rustling sound of the rest of Lance’s clothes coming off. He listened to Lance searching roughly around in the bathroom, looking for supplies. He trusted Lance to find what he needed._

 _Then Lance was behind him, warm and close, and Justin felt two slippery fingers slide into his ass. God, it had been so long. It hurt, but Justin didn’t care. He took a deep breath and tried to relax._

 _Lance fucked him carefully, slowly, and Justin never wanted him to stop._

 _But of course it couldn’t last forever. Nothing ever did. For a moment, after, they lay there, Lance pressing small kisses between Justin’s shoulders, Justin struggling to catch his breath, and it was almost like the last four years had never happened._

 _“Justin,” Lance said, and it was all there in that one word, everything Lance wanted. And part of Justin wanted it, too, but he couldn’t. There was too much to lose. Lance was too close to being out, and Justin wouldn’t do that. What if his voice was permanently fucked up and he had to depend on acting, instead of music? He wouldn’t risk it._

 _He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “No.”_

 _Lance didn’t say anything else. He rested his cheek on Justin’s back for another minute, kissed him tenderly one more time on the point of his shoulder blade, and then Justin felt the mattress shift as he got up. He dressed quietly, and went to the door. Justin didn’t watch._

 _Right before Lance closed the door behind him, he said softly, “I hope your voice gets better, Justin.”_


	24. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **epiphany: a:** a sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something **b:** an intuitive grasp of reality through something (an event) usually simple and striking **c:** an illuminating discovery **d:** a revealing scene or moment

_“Lance, buddy, what the hell were you thinking?” Joey was using his concerned voice, and Lance sighed into the phone. Joey was born to be a parent, and wow, did Lance feel sorry for Briahna whenever she started dating._

 _“Just leave it, Joe,” he said wearily._

 _“You do know how bad an idea it is, right?” Joey asked, ignoring Lance completely._

 _“Possibly. It’s also possible that I don’t really care.” Joey had a point. Out-bidding Nick Lachey at a charity auction for a snowboarding trip with Justin was maybe not the brightest move Lance had ever made, but it was done now, and there was no reason to endlessly discuss how stupid it was._

 _Except that his best friend apparently felt there was. Lance decided to give Joey five minutes, listened patiently for four of them, then said, “Oops, I’ve got a beep. Gotta go, Joe,” and hung up. He knew he’d probably pay for that later, but he didn’t care._

 _Buying Justin wasn’t something he could keep a secret, since it was in all the papers, so he wasn’t surprised at the phone calls he got. JC had the same questions Joey did, but he was less parental about it, so Lance let him talk without hanging up on him. Chris didn’t have much to say, just told him to be careful he didn’t make things even worse than they were. Lance told him he didn’t think they could get much worse, and thanked him for his concern._

 _His mom thought it was a good idea. She was big on talking things out, and she’d always thought that if he and Justin just talked about everything, they’d be fine. Lance thought she could be right, except that it hadn’t worked at any time in the past five years, so why would it work now?_

 _He honestly had no idea what he’d been thinking, or what he thought would happen. He just saw an opportunity and took it._

 _That week in Sundance wasn’t his best film festival experience ever. He had great fun with Jamie Lynn, as usual. The swag was fantastic, and they had a blast trying on sunglasses and making the rounds of parties. He was aware that Justin was there, that Cameron was with him, and he was trying to think how to find a way into the_ Alpha Dog _premiere without anyone seeing him, especially Justin._

 _This year was tough. Several years ago, he had come to Sundance full of ideas and contacts, with heady plans about making movies, brimming with optimism and excitement about the future. This year, if he hadn’t already known that he was only here to party and collect swag, and be lumped with people like Paris Hilton instead of with the serious movers and shakers of the movie industry, he had both Justin, the Serious Actor, and Perez Hilton, the Asshole, to thank for making sure he left knowing full well exactly what his place was._

 _It was a defining moment, for sure, when he saw the story about the sex shop, the pink dildo, and his jacket catching fire popping up in so many different places. Perez, of course, had an ax to grind after Lance had so scornfully rebuffed his overtures in LA last month, and he was obviously determined to humiliate Lance publicly. It had maybe been a mistake to respond on MySpace, but Lance was highly pissed. Mostly, though, it just made him realize that all of the articles bemoaning the idea that Sundance had become more celebrity oriented and less about the movies were, in fact, about_ him, _even when they didn’t mention his name, and that somewhere along the way, his career as an ex-boybander had become something of a joke._

 _It had never been Lance’s ambition to be a punch line._

 _He had been half afraid that Justin would back out of the snowboarding thing, that he would be too busy, or even that he would, in the ultimate affront, bring Cameron with him. The fact that he didn’t made Lance at least hope that they could talk._

 _“I see you still fall on your ass a lot,” Justin remarked as they rode the ski lift back up the mountain. It had been a good day, the first day they had really spent any time together in years. The conversation stayed casual and they stuck to topics they both knew were safe._

 _There weren’t really a lot of those._

 _“I saw Chris the last time I was in Orlando,” Lance said, as he puffed his way across the slope behind Justin, following him to where the run started. Justin snowboarded far more often than Lance did, but Lance still threw himself into it with abandon whenever he found himself on a board. “He has this huge painting of us in his front entrance. We’re practically life-size, and it’s on black velvet. We’re like five velvet Elvises,” he chuckled. He loved that painting, loved that Chris had it right there for everyone to see when they walked into his house._

 _“Chris is insane,” Justin said simply. Lance laughed and nodded. It was as good a response as any._

 _Lance filled Justin in on the TV show he and Joey were trying to get people interested in._ “Out of Sync, _we’re thinking about calling it.” He thought maybe he saw Justin wince a little at that. He quickly changed the subject to stories about Joey’s swimming pool and Briahna’s adventures in kindergarten._

 _They touched briefly on Backstreet’s reunion and tour, but it was obviously an uncomfortable subject for Justin, so after talking some smack about Nick, they moved on._

 _Justin mentioned that he had been writing a few songs with JC, ones that JC was thinking about using on his new album, but that came too close to the subject of how recording was going on Justin's CD, and how his voice was doing, so they backed warily away from that discussion._

 _Lance was exhausted but not unhappy by the time they made their last run. There were photographers, and they both managed to look like they were having a good time together, two old friends enjoying a day on the slopes. Once inside the lodge, they stripped off their jackets, changed from boots to shoes, and then Lance looked at Justin and said, “Wanna get a drink?”_

 _Justin hesitated. Then he nodded and said, “Not here.”_

 _They ended up at the villa Justin and Cameron were renting. “Cameron had to go back to LA. She’s working,” was all Justin said as they made themselves comfortable on the couch, a bottle of Jack on the coffee table in front of them, the flames in the gas fire place silently flickering on the other side of the room._

 _They drank in silence for a while, and although Lance wouldn’t have described it as a companionable silence, it was close enough. Justin stared into his glass, swirling the amber liquid around as if he could find the all the answers he was seeking among the half-melted ice cubes. Finally, he sighed and looked up, firelight reflected in his eyes. “C’mere.”_

 _Lance went. Justin met him halfway, and it was like it always was between them, hot and desperate. This time, though, Lance pulled away before it went further than a kiss. This time, Lance asked his question first._

 _He picked up his drink to give himself something to do and said, “Justin, couldn’t we try again?” He waited, the hissing of the fireplace unnaturally loud in the silence._

 _“I don’t know, Lance,” Justin said in a low voice. Lance made himself breath slowly and evenly. This was the first time Justin hadn’t just said no since the day Lance had told him about Wade and Britney._

 _“You know I never meant things to end, when they happened the way they did.” Lance laughed ruefully, looking down at the glass in his hand. “I never wanted them to end. You were supposed to be my forever.”_

 _Justin nodded. “I know. I just, I was hurt,” he shrugged. “Angry. And then the hiatus, you know, and things were happening, and most of the time I think it’s better this way.”_

 _“Only most of the time? Not all of the time?” Lance fought to keep his voice steady._

 _“Not all of the time,” Justin admitted softly._

 _It was all Lance could do to keep himself from grabbing Justin and kissing him senseless. This wasn’t Justin agreeing to anything, this was just Justin saying sometimes, he wished things were different. “Justin? Will you think about it?” Lance had to ask, but it was undoubtedly one of the scariest things he’d ever done in whole life._

 _The silence seemed to go on forever. Lance’s mouth was dry, his palms were sweaty, and his heart was racing. He was afraid he might have a heart attack before Justin finally answered him._

 _“I’ll think about it.”_

*

They all manage to get up early to do the radio interview, all of them except Chris. He still maintains that he’s too old to be out of bed that early anymore, and that if there are any questions about what his favorite color is or what kind of underwear he wears, JC can answer them. “Luckily, no one cares who I’m dating anymore,” he says cheerfully. “Plus, you don’t need me on that particular song. That’s Bass’s song.”

“I care who you’re dating,” says JC, kissing him on the cheek. “You stay and get your beauty rest, man. I’ll tell them whatever they want to know.”

Chris appears to think that over, but apparently decides sleep is more important than worrying about JC trashing his reputation.

When they first started doing promo for this CD and tour, Lance expected the questions to change, to be different than they were before, but they’re essentially the same as the questions all those years ago, and almost worse than the ones Justin and JC encountered during their solo ventures. It doesn’t help that some of the DJ’s they meet almost seem to take it as a personal affront to their own coolness that NSYNC had the nerve to reunite.

And, if anything, the personal questions are even more intrusive this time out.

“Single,” says JC.

“Single,” says Lance.

“Single,” says Justin.

Joey just laughs.

“So, this time around, you guys have someone, I mean, you have a gay member this time,” the male DJ says. The female half of the team is watching her partner with amusement. Lance rolls his eyes. This question comes up often, which isn’t really a surprise. He’s actually kind of surprised it hasn’t been a bigger deal. He guesses it’s because he’s been out for a while, almost three years, and it’s really kind of old news.

“I was gay last time around, too, you know,” Lance says mildly. “I just wasn’t out. At least not publicly,” he adds, knowing what question that will most likely trigger. He’s right.

“You mean the other guys knew you were gay back when you were, I mean, before, you know, the last time?” And Lance wonders how this guy has a job in radio when he can’t even put together a coherent sentence. He wonders if he’s making the guy uncomfortable, and he smiles at him, a smile that just barely crosses the line from flirting to threatening. It’s a smile he’s perfected over the past three years. The DJ’s eyes widen, and his pretty sidekick snickers into her coffee.

“Of course,” JC says, like that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.

“Sure,” says Lance patiently.

“Damn straight,” says Justin.

Joey laughs again. “Dude, Lance is my best friend. He’s never hidden it from us.”

“Did that make any of you uncomfort-” but he’s interrupted by all four of them making sure he knows the answer to that question is an emphatic no. Lance waits for the next stupid question. This guy seems to be kind of hung up on the subject.

“In fact,” Justin is saying, “I myself happen to be bi.” There’s a moment of shocked silence, which means dead air, a cardinal sin in the radio business, and the other DJ scrambles to fill the resounding silence.

“You, Justin?” You, you’re bisexual?” she asks quickly.

“I think we should go ahead and sing the-” Joey says, but Justin talks right over him.

“Oh, sure. I figured that out back when I was, what,” and here he looks right at Lance, “Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Lance is completely gob-smacked, but he recovers enough to grin at Justin and say coolly, “I’m pretty sure it was fifteen.”

Justin grins back and Joey glares at them both. JC tries to direct everybody’s attention to the fact that they’re here to sing live on the air, and in fact, they’d be happy to do so right now. Nobody pays any attention to him whatsoever. Suddenly, Lance wonders if Chris is awake and listening to this, and he has to smother a laugh.

“Did Cam-” and once again the DJ is interrupted, this time by Justin holding up a hand and saying, “You don’t want to go there, man, trust me,” and there’s something in his tone that shuts the guy right up.

Justin blows out a breath. “Look, man, I get that this is big news, although I don’t know why it should be. But I’ve answered all the questions I’m going to about it. Now, do you want to hear the song, or not?”

“Yeah, sure, fine,” the DJ says quickly. He doesn’t point out that Justin hasn’t answered many questions at all, really. “Who wants to tell us about the song?”

“Well, it’s called _Only a Glimpse_ , and I wrote it for Lance,” Justin announces.

“So he’d have something to sing,” Joey adds hastily. “Lance never gets any solos.” The DJ is staring between Lance and Justin with dawning comprehension on his face. JC starts to laugh helplessly. Lance shakes his head at all of them as Justin turns to the keyboard.

“You guys ready?” he asks, as he starts the intro. They get through the song pretty well, Lance thinks, considering JC is having a hard time stifling his giggles, and Lance is so busy wondering what the hell Justin is _doing_ that he almost misses his cue. But as his sings the beautiful melody Justin wrote for him, his heart lifts as he realizes.

Justin is coming out for him.

*

 _Lance had balls, Justin had to give him that. The whole auction thing took a lot of nerve. Justin came very close to refusing to go along with it, but in the end, Cameron persuaded him to do it._

 _“It’ll look bad if you don’t, Justin. Plus,” she hesitated, then said, “Maybe it’ll help. Maybe you guys can talk.”_

 _There was nothing to talk about. Justin was still in love with Lance and he probably always would be, but they were never going to be friends again, and all the conversations and deep soul-searching discussions in the world weren’t going to change that. There was too much there, too much that Justin wished was different, and too much that made it impossible._

 _There were just some things that Justin couldn’t do._

 _So he and Lance spent a relatively pleasant, if awkward day on the slopes. Lance’s snowboarding skills hadn’t improved much, but he didn’t seem to be at all daunted by that fact. He threw himself into it with his usual enthusiasm. It was classic Lance, and Justin was suddenly struck by how much he missed that. There was some French phrase he had come across once that best described Lance’s approach to life._ Joie de vivre, _or something like that. He’d have to look it up._

 _Afterwards, against his better judgment, he found himself sitting face to face with Lance in his rented villa. He looked at Lance, cheeks pink from the sun and cold air, and he just_ wanted. _It was as simple as that. That was never going to change._

 _This time when Lance asked, Justin let himself say maybe. It was impossible, he knew that, but in that moment he just wanted it so badly._

 _But later, in the stark light of day and his computer screen, he couldn’t do it. And he knew what he was doing was unforgivable, even as he cut and pasted the blog into an e-mail, but he also knew it would end things for good and maybe give him some peace._

 _Lance, man, I’m sorry. I can’t. I know this guy is a motherfucking prick, but shit like this is the reason I just can’t._

 __We stand by our original reporting 100%! Everything we stated that happed really did. Lance loved the dildo. Lance was and is flaming (and literally on fire).__Also, even if he were to dispute that, is he REALLY going to deny that he is gay, which we stated in the post? Because we all know Lance Bass is a major homo, so Perez was MOST DEFINITELY not 100% factually inaccurate.__P.S. Hey Lance, say hi to Jesse T. from Wilhemina. That's one hot piece of mangina! You lucky bitch. __

 _I’m so sorry. J_

*

JC is still chuckling to himself in the car. Justin refuses to talk about it. “It can wait until we’re back at the hotel with Chris. I don’t want to have this discussion twice,” he says firmly. “And you know he was awake and listening to the show. The lazy fucker just didn’t want to go to the radio station with us.”

So the ride back to the hotel is silent, punctuated by JC’s occasional snickers and Joey shaking his head and muttering, “Shit,” every few minutes. Justin just grins at Lance, holding his hand and playing thoughtfully with his fingers.

Lance doesn’t say anything at all. Immediately after they went off the air, he’d excused himself to the bathroom. After a moment’s hesitation, Justin followed him. He found himself being ambushed by a happily smiling Lance, who kissed him enthusiastically and said, “You’re insane. I just wanted to tell you that. Let’s go,” and dragged him out to the car, the others following bemusedly behind in their wake.

Lonnie must have radioed ahead that they were coming, because when the elevator doors slide open, Chris is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed. As soon as Justin steps off the elevator, he whaps him upside the head. “You had to do that when I wasn’t there? I had to miss all the fun? I had to _listen_ to it and not be able to _say_ anything? Fuck you, Timberlake.”

He really is indignant, and JC starts laughing all over again.

“Now look what you did, Chris. We just got him calmed down,” Lance says.

“Can we get out of the hallway,” Justin pleads.

Lonnie nods. “I think that’s a good idea, man.”

They file into Lance’s room, because it’s the closest. They all turn to look at Justin, all of them with the identical _start talking, buddy_ expression on their faces. Justin suppresses the urge to laugh along with JC. He shrugs and starts talking.

“I didn’t exactly plan it, at least not specifically for this morning,” he says, looking at Chris, holding up his hands in defense. “I just thought, you know, if there was an opportunity, you all knew that, and really, that guy was a fucking asshole, so I just did it. We did talk about this, I know we did,” and Justin huffs out a breath in exasperation. They had talked about it.

Lance nods. “Okay. Okay. But if anyone has any more bombshells they’d like to drop in an interview, let me know beforehand, wouldja?” He looks around and smiles happily. “I don’t think my heart can take another interview like that one.”


	25. Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kitchen:** a place with cooking facilities

Even though Joey’s rules say they can renegotiate the bus arrangements every two weeks, no one’s taken advantage of that yet. Chris and JC have settled into a kind of scary domesticity that strikes Justin as very unnatural when he really thinks about it, and Lance seems to fit in with them just fine. Chris hasn’t said much about it, but Justin gets the feeling that he and Lance are using this time to mend their fences, and to see if they can remember why they used to be such good friends back in the day. Justin wonders what that will translate to in terms of misbehavior, now that they’re older and supposedly more mature and all.

Justin is very comfortable riding with Joey. Joey is a very _comforting_ presence, especially when he gives Justin his undivided attention, which doesn’t happen as often as Justin would like it to.

“Hey, J, pass me the lettuce, would you?” Joey’s making lunch, and Justin is helping. Justin passes along the bag of shredded lettuce, and Joey piles some on each of their sandwiches, then tops it with a squirt of mustard and a thick slice of whole wheat bread. Joey’s sandwiches have gotten healthier over the years, but they’re still Justin’s favorite thing to eat when they’re speeding down a highway at 65 mph.

“I’ve been thinking, Joey,” Justin says with his mouth full, after they’ve settled at the small table to eat. Joey raises his eyebrows in response, chewing encouragingly at him. “I’ve been thinking about rearranging the buses. You know, like who’s riding with who.” Joey swallows and takes a long pull at his bottle of beer. He nods at Justin.

“I’ve been wondering about that. I didn’t know if you guys were ready for that.”

Justin shrugs. “I don’t know if we are, man. We haven’t talked about it. I was just thinking.” He glances up at Joey. “What do you think?”

Joey seems surprised that Justin is asking his opinion. He smiles around another mouthful of food and holds up a finger until he swallows again. “I think you should. We’re more than halfway done with the tour, but there’s still plenty of time left. Shit, Justin, I think you guys could use some time together, before the tour’s over and we all go our separate ways again.” That last part is a question, but it’s one Justin doesn’t know the answer to yet. He doesn’t know what he’s doing after this.

The idea of spending time alone with Lance, time that’s not stolen or rushed or in a bathroom, is appealing. It’s a luxury they’ve seldom had, and Justin is smart enough to know that it certainly contributed to their relationship crashing and burning as spectacularly as it did.

He chews thoughtfully as they finish their sandwiches in companionable silence. Joey grabs his plate and gets up, clearing the table. Justin jumps to his feet, too. “I’ll clean up, Joey, you cooked.”

Joey laughs at him. “Justin, they’re just paper plates.”

“Joey, they were just sandwiches,” Justin mimics, grinning at him.

“Hey, fuck you, Timberlake,” Joey splutters indignantly. “They were fuckin’ _spectacular_ sandwiches.”

“That they were, Joey,” Justin sighs, sprawling out over the couch, putting his feet up on the arm rest and watching Joey between his half-closed eyelids.

Joey glares. “Move your feet, dickwad.” He doesn’t wait, just picks Justin’s feet up and sits down, still holding onto Justin’s ankles. He grabs the TV remote. “I wanna finish watching _Superman Returns._ ” The grip he has on Justin’s feet tells Justin he isn’t going anywhere until the movie is over. He closes his eyes and relaxes into dialogue he’s heard so many times he could recite it in his sleep, if that ever became necessary.

He’s comfortable with Joey, but he wants Lance.

*

Mostly what Lance remembers is the meanness of it all. Three years has done a lot to dull the sharp edges of the cutting remarks and sneering comments, but it’s not like he’s ever going to really forget how it felt. He’d expected a lot of negativity, he’d even known it was going to come from both sides. He’d for sure expected to be attacked either because he was gay, or because he hadn’t come out in a way or at a time that fulfilled some gay political agenda.

What he hadn’t expected was to be attacked for who he was, and for the accomplishments he was most proud of in his life.

The disparaging remarks about NSYNC, the scornful dismissal of his “failed attempt to go to space,” as he continually saw it referred to, came as an unpleasant surprise, and made him very, very angry.

“I didn’t fucking fail,” he’d stormed to his mother at some point. “I did everything right, it was those fucking assholes with the money who failed,” and he was surprised to find himself near furious tears.

“I know, baby,” his mother had soothed. “Just hang on, they’ll find something else to write about soon.”

And they had, but it was still one of the worst experiences of his life.

So as happy as it makes him that Justin’s come out as bisexual, and hinted that he and Lance may have a little something going on, he’s also worried. He doesn’t want Justin to think he doubts him, but he’s waiting to see how well Justin holds up under the pressure. It makes him a little nervous.

It’s actually Chris who tries to reassure him. JC’s busy in the back of the bus with his laptop, probably futzing around with Music Freedom, so it’s just the two of them rummaging around in the bus refrigerator, looking to see if there are any Red Bulls left to get them through the long afternoon on the road. “Lance, do the words _wardrobe malfunction_ ring any bells?” Lance doesn’t really think the Superbowl incident with Janet is a prime example of Justin’s ability to weather a media storm, unless their plan is to disappear from public view for a couple of years, only being photographed while they’re pumping gas and leaving restaurants. Chris seems to have second thoughts on that one, too, because he adds hastily, “The British tabloids have been targeting him for years, you know that. Mr. Trousersnake has dealt with them just fine.”

“I know he has. I’m not saying-”

“And then there’s the whole breakup with Cameron. You can’t say that wasn’t pressure,” Chris goes on, ignoring Lance’s interruption.

And that’s very true. Publicly, Justin handled that as smoothly as he did the breakup with Britney all those years ago, this time even avoiding making a fuck-you video at the end, a real step forward in Lance’s opinion, since that sort of thing tended to belie all his gentlemanly smiles and discreet silences. In fact, there was so little public airing of the grievances involved with this breakup that Lance still doesn’t know exactly what happened.

Mostly, though, he doesn’t want Justin to have to go through what he did. People are just nasty sometimes, in Lance’s experience.

Justin tries to reassure him, too. He tells Lance he’s been thinking about doing it for a long time.

“I didn’t just wake up the other day and say, hey, I think I’ll come out today, you know. I mean, shit, Lance, I know what to expect,” he says with confidence.

Lance peers at him doubtfully. “I know you think you do.” He pauses, then continues. “I never once asked you to, Justin. Come out, I mean.”

Justin nods. “I know you didn’t. But you act like I’ve never dealt with shit like this before, man,” Justin says fondly, kissing Lance until he’s not quite sure why they’re arguing anymore. “Besides,” he says quietly, “You already did the hard part. Do you think I don’t realize that?” Lance frowns, puzzled. “You did it first, Lance. That was the hard part. Doing it second?” His grin is dazzling and he snaps his fingers. “That’s gonna be a breeze.”

Justin really is insane, Lance is almost sure of it.

*

 _The 2007 Grammy Awards were being held in LA this year. Lance hadn’t decided which parties he was going to yet, mostly because Joey hadn’t decided yet which ones he thought would be the most fun. Both Justin and JC had been nominated in several categories, so they were sure to attract attention wherever they went._

 _Lance didn’t particularly want to end up at the same parties as Justin, and he figured they could probably avoid him if they tried. They didn’t exactly travel in the same circles these days. Joey shrugged and said fine, he’d call JC and see where he was going. Lance nodded._

 _“Works for me.”_

 _JC, however, was going to Clive Davis’s pre-Grammy party, where, as it turned out, he and Justin were actually performing. Lance shook his head no. Joey sighed and said, “Come on, Lance. The party’ll be big enough you can avoid him if you want. It’s Clive.”_

 _So Lance found himself at the Beverly Hills Hotel, a drink in his hand, Joey at his elbow, and keeping one eye peeled for Justin. Justin made himself scarce until after his performance. JC sang the song that everyone knew was a big “fuck you” to Eva, even though JC denied it every time he was asked, and then he and Justin sang the song from JC’s CD that they had collaborated on. Then it was Justin’s turn, and he sang both_ SexyBack _and Lance’s favorite track off his CD,_ My Love. __

 _Lance soaked up every move Justin made on stage, listened to every note, storing it all away for later. He never knew when he’d see Justin again, and these days he kept every detail of each encounter safely tucked away, to take out whenever he needed it._

 _And then Justin was on the move, making the rounds, Cameron at his side, laughing, completely owning the room. Lance knew this was the way it should have been three years ago, the last time Justin was up for a Grammy, if the shadow of the Superbowl hadn’t been hanging over his head._

 _Lance watched it all for a bit, then turned to Joey. “I’ll be back,” and he escaped before Joey could stop him. He was just going to duck into the restroom for a few minutes, wash his hands, maybe check that he didn’t have any of his dinner stuck in his teeth. Just a few minutes, then he’d go back out to the party. He thought maybe they could leave after a while, maybe head to a club, somewhere he could find someone willing to go home with him for the night. Well, okay, Joey wasn’t usually who he took along with him for that kind of thing, but he really needed to get out of here. He’d seen enough of Justin to last him for awhile._

 _Lance glanced casually away from the mirror as the bathroom door opened behind him. Three men that he’d never seen before came in, laughing at something the tallest of the three was saying. They were all pretty tall, actually, and the one that was laughing was broad-shouldered and kind of cute. He stood there, smiling at Lance, while one of the other two men, who was wearing a denim jacket, stood nervously by the door, and the third one, a skinny red-head, quickly peered into the empty stalls._

 _The hair on the back of Lance’s neck stood up. He calmly finished drying his hands, tossed the towel into the trash, and turned toward the door. The tall guy’s smile turned nasty and he shook his head slowly._

 _“I don’t think so, fag,” he said conversationally. “I think we’re gonna have our own little party right here.”_

 _And Lance had no idea what to do. He’d never been in a fight before, not a real one, not with someone who really wanted to hurt him. In his whole life, he’d never even been hit, except once in middle school, and that didn’t count. Not like this._

 _And Lance wished intensely that it was several years ago, when he always felt safe without having to think about it. He really, really wanted Lonnie, or maybe Eric to be here right now, to open the door and poke his head inside this godforsaken bathroom and say, “Come on, Bass, time to get out of here.”_

 _His heart racing, he tried smiling, but he knew it looked like more of a grimace than a friendly smile. “You don’t want to do that,” he said, and his voice came out surprisingly steady._

 _“Sure we do,” the red-head said, and then quicker than Lance could react, he and the guy in the denim jacket had hold of his arms, and the tall guy swung, twice in quick succession, hitting him once in the face and once in the stomach. Lance gasped sharply as the air was knocked out of him, and at the same time, pain exploded across his face. Dimly, he thought about his nose, wondering what it would look like after this. He tried to draw a breath, but his stomach muscles didn’t seem to be working. Oh, shit, he thought. Shit._

 _As if from a distance, Lance heard the tall guy talking, hissing insults at him, and the other two laughing, then he was dimly aware of a fist being pulled back again, and he tried to brace himself, knowing it would be impossible._

 _And all of a sudden there were other voices, and different laughter, and he recognized Joey and he couldn’t figure out why Nick Carter of all people was with him, but Joey’s voice penetrated the roaring noise in his ears, saying, “What the fuck, motherfucking bastards!” and then Nick and Joey were pulling the guys off him, and oh, God, Lonnie_ was _there. He must be here with JC tonight._

 _“Carter, watch the door,” Lonnie snapped. He had the front of the tall guy’s shirt wrapped in his fist, and he shook him like a rag doll. “Fucking assholes,” he growled, and the red-head was so white Lance could see every one of his freckles standing out on his face._

 _The guy in the denim jacket made as if to run for it, but Joey planted a hand in the middle of his chest and said, “I don’t think so, motherfucker,” and they glared at each other as the tall guy struggled in Lonnie’s grip._

 _“Three against, one, huh,” said Lonnie, shaking his head in disgust. “You guys complete cowards, is that it?”_

 _“He started it!” the tall guy croaked out, pointing a finger at Lance. “Dirty cocksucker tried to get me to blow him,” and Lance was filled with a fury so great he literally saw red. He propelled himself forward, wanting to bash the asshole’s face in, but Joey stopped him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back._

 _Furious, Lance tried to wrench his arm out of Joey’s hand, spitting, “Let me go, Joey!” His lip hurt and there was blood running down his chin._

 _“That’s enough,” Lonnie said sharply. He shook the tall guy and gave him a shove. The guy stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. Lonnie didn’t take his eyes off him. “Lance? What do you want to do? It’s your call, man.”_

 _Lance swiped angrily at his bloody nose. “What kind of jail term do people get for hate crimes in California, Lon?” he asked, taking savage pleasure in the look of panic that crossed the face of the man who had hit him. “Gay bashing qualifies as a hate crime, right?”_

 _“Sure does, man,” Lonnie answered. “These guys come after you for a reason like that, that’d make this a hate crime.”_

 _“They came after me because I like dick, yeah,” Lance snarled. The tall guy’s eyes glittered with rage as he glared at Lance.“He’s a f-” started the red-head, who was standing uncertainly in the middle of the room, still rubbing his arm where Nick had wrenched it up behind his back to get him off of Lance._

 _“Shut up,” Nick said menacingly from his position in front of the door, clenching his fists. “No body asked you.”_

 _“Cops’re right outside the hotel, man,” Lonnie said calmly, looking at Lance, waiting to see what he wanted to do._

 _Lance wanted nothing more than to have the cops haul these assholes out of here in handcuffs, and to charge them with everything it was possible to charge them with. But there were other things to consider here._

 _Joey read his mind. He growled, “Don’t even fucking think about it, Lance. This has nothing to do with fucking Justin and JC. You let Lonnie get the goddamn cops in here. Don’t you fucking think you have to make this go away quietly.”_

 _“For what it’s worth, I agree with Joey,” said Nick. “It won’t hurt them any.” If anyone would know how much shit ex-bandmates, or family members, for that matter, could deal with, it was Nick._

 _Lance nodded. “Okay,” he said before he could change his mind. Lonnie was on his phone before Lance got the word completely out of his mouth. The guy in the denim jacket made another aborted attempt to lunge for the door, but Joey, who was apparently looking for an excuse to hit someone, grabbed him and shoved him against the wall._

 _Abruptly, Lance needed to sit down. He wanted to sit down and he wanted some ice for his lip and his nose, and he wanted to wash the blood off his face and hands. “Joey?”_

 _Joey looked at him and his face softened. With one last “stay put, asshole” to the guy in the denim jacket, he turned to Lonnie, eyebrows raised._

 _“There’s a satellite kitchen down the hallway to the right,” Lonnie told him. “Go. Carter and I’ll be fine until the cops get here.” Nick nodded. Lonnie hesitated. “They’ll need to talk to you, Lance. Don’t go anywhere else, and I’ll bring them to you.”_

 _Joey wound his arm around Lance’s waist, and Lance gratefully leaned into him. “Come on, man.” And together they left the bathroom, trying to avoid the curious stares of the few people they passed in the hallway on the way to the kitchen. Once they were there, Joey immediately charmed the woman in charge, and before Lance knew it, he was sitting on a stool while a kitchen worker brought him ice for his nose and Joey carefully dabbed at his cut lip with a wet towel._

 _Lance felt tears burn his eyes as Joey fussed and tsked over him, poking gently at his face. It hurt. Finally, Joey put down the towel and wrapped Lance up in a warm hug. Lance clung to him gratefully, sitting on a kitchen stool with a busted lip and a sore nose, waiting to explain to the cops that no, he hadn’t offered the guy a blow job first. It was going to be his word against theirs, and it was going to be ugly. With any luck, the assholes would settle out of court._

 _As he heard Lonnie come into the kitchen, followed by a police officer, Lance said, his voice muffled by Joey’s chest, “Joey, please don’t tell Justin,” even though he knew it wouldn’t matter, Justin would find out anyway._

*

They have several days scheduled in Mississippi for the Jackson show, and Lance’s mother insists on inviting Justin to stay with them for a night. “Mom, we’re still only talking about things. We don’t even know-”

“Lance, I heard the radio interview. You can’t tell me-”

“I didn’t ask him to do that. He did that on his own. He decided to come-”

“And why would Justin Timberlake come out of the closet, if he didn’t want-”

“Mom, that’s fine, but we haven’t settled anything. You know what touring’s like. There’s never any time to-”

“So you can talk here. It’s settled. We’ll expect you both on Tuesday.”

Lance sighs. He never gets the last word with his mother. He’s pretty sure he never will.

It’s good to have some uninterrupted time, his mother is right about that. Lance and Justin sit on the porch swing, lazily kissing and drinking sweet tea. Lance’s parents leave them alone, and Stacy doesn’t even bring the kids around to see them until supper time.

Lance is all ready with a list, ready to tick things off his fingers one by one. It turns out Justin has a list, too, which Lance should have known. They decide to take turns.

“You first,” Lance says.

“Okay, sure,” Justin agrees. “I think we should share a bus.”

“I think you’re working back to front on your list, Justin,” Lance says with a laugh. “That may be a little premature.”

“Maybe,” Justin smiles. “But I think a big part of the problem last time was that there was no damn time. No time for us to just _be_ ,” he explains earnestly. Lance can’t help it, he leans over and kisses him. This happens frequently, and probably adds a good hour to their discussion. Neither one of them are complaining.

“Okay, you’re right. That was a big problem. It was just all so fucking crazy,” Lance says.

“Yeah, it was.” Justin shakes his head. “Totally crazy, man. This tour seems much more sane, with the dates spread out the way they are.”

“Okay. So who switches buses?” Lance asks.

“You and Joey, if he’ll do it. I think he will, I’ve already-” He breaks off as Lance frowns at him. “Hey, we talked about it is all. How are Chris and C to ride with these days?”

“Remarkably peaceful, actually. JC’s figured out a way to rein him in when he really gets going. I don’t know why none of us never thought to offer him blow jobs before,” Lance says dryly.

Justin chuckles. “Oh, there were plenty of blow jobs back then, too. But they seemed to make him jumpier instead of calming him down, for some reason.”

“Well, whatever JC’s doing, he’s doing it right this time. Joe’ll be fine over there.”

“Okay.” Justin smiles and kisses him again. “Your turn,” he says, pulling back.

Lance looks down at his hands. “You spent so many years being mad at me. What if I screw up again? Are you gonna leave again?”

Justin blows out a breath. “Lance, I was twenty fucking years old. Twenty. We were on top of the damn world, man, and I thought I could have it all. And yeah, I was really pissed.” He pauses, staring off across the front yard, and they sit in silence for a while. Lance waits. “But we both made mistakes. And me leaving had as much to do with leaving NSYNC as it did with leaving you. I was ready to be someone different, and since we’d already planned the hiatus, I thought, well, just change every damn thing, start everything all over.”

“And now? What makes now different?” Lance asks uncertainly.

“I’m not twenty years old any more, for one thing.” Lance smiles at that. “Things are less crazy. I’ve already done the solo thing, the movie thing, the girlfriend thing. But you’re gonna have to trust me on that. If you don’t, we might as well not bother,” Justin says.

Lance nods. He knows that. “Your turn.”

“Fidelity.” And Lance knows what Justin means. “We’re not going to rehash every damn thing that happened, man. There’s no fucking point to it. We were young, things were wild. But this time, it’s just us. No one else. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” And there’s only one thing left on Lance’s list, but it’s a big one. “Justin, why did you come out?” He still can’t help think that Justin doesn’t realize what a big deal it is, how nothing, absolutely nothing, is ever the same after that.And Justin seems to read his thoughts, because he says, “Do you think I don’t know? Do you think I didn’t fucking see? Why do you think I stayed away for so damn long, why do you think I kept running? I’m not stupid, Lance, and I’m not blind. And I didn’t do it until I knew I was ready and could handle it.” And again he looks so serious, and so earnest that Lance just has to believe him. Maybe Justin does know what to expect after all.

And that seems to be the end of their lists, and they spend the rest of the afternoon dozing, tangled up together on the porch swing.

After supper, Diane says she and Jim are going over to Stacy and Ford’s for an hour or two. There’s something about a video of Leyton’s most recent piano recital, but Lance isn’t really listening. He’s too busy staring at his mother like she’s grown another head.

“You have to watch that tonight? We’re only here one night!” he squawks indignantly.

“Oh, Lance,” Diane says, rolling her eyes and patting his hand. “We’ll be back in an hour or two. You boys make yourselves comfortable,” she says. Lance swears she’s practically smirking at them.

Stacy winks at him as she tugs a protesting Leyton out the door. “You’ll see Uncle Lance and Uncle Justin tomorrow, sweetie.”

“My mother wants us to have sex,” Lance says in amazement as he watches the headlights disappear down the driveway as his parents leave.

“Why yes, I do believe she does,” Justin says, and then they’re both helpless with laughter, standing in the middle of Lance’s mother’s spotless kitchen. “I always do what _my_ mama wants me to do,” Justin remarks, advancing on Lance, backing him up against the refrigerator. The door is cool at Lance’s back, and Justin presses warmly against him, both hands on the refrigerator on either side of Lance’s head. Lance grins at him.

“I do, too.” He kisses Justin, because he can. “I guess she thought this would be easier if we were alone.”

“Enough talking.” Justin kisses him hungrily, wrapping his arms around Lance and hauling him closer, already hard against him.

Lance pulls back long enough to say breathlessly, “I don’t think she meant we should have sex in her kitchen, Justin.”

Justin just growls “shut up” into Lance’s mouth, and Lance obligingly does.

It’s been too long, and they’re too frantic to do more than shove their clothes out of the way, trying to make up for the years of not touching each other. Justin palms both their cocks, lining them up to rub together, and it’s so hot Lance can practically see the sparks. He closes his eyes, thinking, oh god, they’re finally doing this again, and it’s not just a desperate attempt to connect, it’s because they want to, because Lance might finally have what he thought he could never have again, and with that thought, he groans and comes a lot sooner than he wanted to, and he feels Justin coming, too, thrusting against the warm slipperiness in the hollow of Lance’s hip.

They stand there holding on to each other, just breathing, until Justin says, “I think you’re right about the kitchen. I think she expected us to go upstairs. We should probably do that.”

Lance snorts. “It would serve her right if I let you fuck me right here on the table.”

Justin eyes darken at Lance’s words. “It would, but I’d prefer a bed,” and he grasps Lance’s wrist and pulls him towards the stairs.


	26. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **choice: a:** the act of choosing **b:** the power of choosing **c:** a person or thing chosen **d:** worthy of being chosen **e:** to be preferred

_Justin loved Toronto. It was a gorgeous city, he loved the people, and it was a terrific place to shoot a movie. Cameron, too, seemed to be having a good time. It was the first time they’d really worked together, since Justin didn’t think_ Shrek 3 _counted. He was happy to be doing a romantic comedy, it was something he hadn’t tried before, and his mom was all about him trying everything he could when the opportunity presented itself._

 _The thing was, making this movie was reminding him more and more of the Celebrity tour. It felt like a last-ditch effort to preserve something that was at its natural end._

 _He and Cameron weren’t fighting, exactly. That would have made it almost unbearable. But Cameron was sad, and Justin felt responsible for that._

 _“You’re my best friend, Justin. I can tell you anything. And so I’m telling you, I think my boyfriend is in love with someone else.”_

 _The two of them were curled up on opposite couches in the living room of the house they were renting, running lines. It was late, and Justin was tired, which is why he flipped back a couple of pages in his script at Cameron’s quiet words, wondering if he had missed something. Her voice was light, but her eyes were troubled._

 _“What?”_

 _Cameron sighed, and smiled sadly. “I never thought I’d say this, because I really do love you, but you need to make a choice. And then convince me that you mean it, either way.”_

 _Justin respected her enough not to pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about. She’d been remarkably patient over the years. “I’ve never been ready to choose before,” he admitted. And that made it sound like he’d stayed with her because he didn’t_ have _a choice, like she was his default or something, but he didn’t mean it like that, and she knew it. She nodded._

 _“I’m not sure you’re ready now, but you’re getting closer to it. I know how hard what happened last year was for you,” she said gently._

 _She meant what had happened to Lance at Clive’s party last February. Justin didn’t think he’d ever been more angry, or felt more helpless than he had during the legal proceedings that followed. Joey had been reluctant to tell him much about what was going on, for some reason, but between Chris and JC, Justin had been kept completely up to date on all the behind the scenes stuff that didn’t make the papers._

 _And it had nothing to do with him, and that was the hardest part. Somebody had hurt Lance, and Justin had been a mere bystander. He thought maybe he was tired of being a bystander in Lance’s life._

 _Cameron was talking. “I saw you today, Justin. You were watching those two guys, the ones who were walking down the street holding hands.” She put her script down on her lap, her finger marking her place._

 __

She smiled at him fondly. “Have you ever wanted something that you didn’t get, if you really put your mind to it?”

 _“No.” That was something Justin_ was _sure of._

 _So Justin made his choice, and he and Cameron broke up on the set of Moonlighting the Movie. The press was absolutely rabid, relentlessly hounding their friends for the inside scoop, and offering huge sums of money to whatever “inside sources” were willing to divulge the sordid details. There really weren’t any details, though, sordid or not, and so the tabloids resorted to making things up more than they usually did._

 _Justin and Cameron didn’t care in the least. They said goodbye when the shoot was over, and Justin realized he was luckier than he deserved to be._

 _“Justin?” his mother said, when he went home afterwards._

 _Justin kissed her on the cheek. “She told me to make a choice. I chose Lance,” he told her simply._

 _Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a silent “oh.” He waited while she thought it over. Then she nodded. “So, what’s the plan?”_

 _He grinned at her. “I already called JC.”_

 _*_

 _Lance figured the other four had a conference call and gave Joey the unenviable task of breaking the news to him. Joey was trying to be all_ hey, guess what! _about it, like he was telling Lance something totally fabulous and exciting, like maybe Joey’s comedy album was a go, which was actually what Lance had been waiting to hear._

 _But no, that’s not what Joey’s news was. “I’m coming to town for a couple of days, man, and I’ve got some news!” Lance should have been suspicious right there, because Joe hadn’t been planning on being back in LA for at least another month. Anything he didn’t want to tell Lance on the phone couldn’t really be_ good _news._

 _“You came all the way to LA to tell me this, Joey? You, like, got on a plane, and everything?” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have bothered. Go back to Orlando. Kiss Kelly and Bri for me,” Lance said dismissively._

 _“Just listen a minute, willya?” Joey paused, apparently to gather his thoughts. Lance glared at him over his bottle of Dansani. They were sitting out by Lance’s pool, which Joey always enjoyed, in spite of the fact that it was rather miniscule compared to his pool in Orlando. It must have been the view._

 _Joey took a big swig of his beer, set the bottle resolutely down on the table, and then eyed Lance’s water uneasily. “Are you sure you don’t want something stronger to drink, man? Some vodka and Red Bull? Hey, let’s open a bottle of champagne. I know you have to have some around here somewhere.” He smiled hopefully._

 _Lance raised his eyebrows at him. Joey sighed. “Okay. Apparently Justin and JC both decided this might be a good time, for, um, NSYNC to get together and make a new CD.”_

 _“You said that already. I’m waiting for the part where you either tell me you’re kidding, or you assure me that you told them both not in a million fucking years.” Lance waited, his water bottle sweating in his hand. He gazed out over the pool, watching the sunset. Maybe Joey was right. Maybe this conversation required alcohol. Abruptly he got to his feet. “I’ll be right back. You’d better start making sense when I get back here.” Joey frowned at him indignantly, and Lance flipped him off as he went into the house to find something to drink that would get him through the upcoming discussion._

 _He stood in his pantry, staring at the array of bottles on the shelf, and finally chose the bottle of Grey Goose he’d bought for when his mom came to visit. It seemed fitting for this conversation._

 _“So,” Lance said, as he sat back down, putting the bottle of vodka and a glass on the table in front of him, “Let me get this straight. Justin and JC want to make another NSYNC album. And then they actually want to go on tour? As in, all five of us? Together?” Joey was nodding enthusiastically at him. “And you think this is a good idea?” Joey kept nodding. “You’re all out of your fucking minds.” Joey frowned and stopped nodding._

 _“It’s perfect timing, Lance. JC’s just come off the last leg of his tour. Justin just finished up the movie. Our show just got cancelled. Chris is still just screwing around with his Emo bands.” He snickered a little, but Lance wasn’t that easily distracted._

 _“Yes, well, that’s all very nice, Joey, but you’re forgetting the part where Justin and I aren’t… we haven’t… we can’t-” He broke off. Joey knew what he meant. He didn’t have to explain._

 _Again Joey took his time answering him. Finally, he said, “I’m not forgetting that part, Lance. I just think maybe it’s time to put that aside.”_

 _Lance shoved his chair back and stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Put it aside? What, like it doesn’t matter? It’s not an inconvenient little_ thing _, Joey.”_

 _“Lance, man, I_ know _that. We_ all _know that. But this is something the rest of us really want to do,” Joey said, tipping his head back to drink, not meeting Lance’s eyes._

 _Lance stared at Joey a minute, then sat down again and poured himself a double shot of vodka. He swirled the colorless liquid around, and then said, “So I’m outvoted, is that it?” He waited to see if Joey was going to actually point out that NSYNC was a business and that they all had an equal vote, and had always only needed a simple majority to make decisions. And hey, four to one, it didn’t get much simpler than that._

 _And then Joey did look at him. “If you want to put it that way, you can.”_

 _“Goddammit.”_

 _“Lance-”_

 _“No, Joey. You did what you came here to do. You can go back and tell them that.” He waved dismissively at Joey. “It’s fine.”_

 _Lance and Joey hardly ever fought. There wasn’t much about Joey that Lance didn’t love. And he loved him too much to do anything as dramatic as kick him out of his house at sunset on a Thursday night in the middle of May. But they spent the rest of the evening watching TV in silence, and when Joey wrapped him up in his usual goodbye hug the next morning, Lance returned it perfunctorily and only nodded when Joey said, “Think about it. And Lance? I’m sorry, man.”_

 _He couldn’t do it, and it was inconceivable to him that Joey of all people didn’t get that. Go back in the studio, with Justin? Tour again, with Justin? Had they all lost their minds, or at least the parts of them where their memories were stored?_

 _And then Chris called him. “We’re playing good cop/bad cop here, Bass. Try and guess which one I am.”_

 _If there was anyone who should be on Lance’s side, it was Chris. He couldn’t possibly want to be within ten miles of a Justin and Lance working reunion._

 _“No shit, Sherlock,” Chris snorted, when Lance said as much. “But in case it’s escaped your notice, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now. I was hoping you and Timberlake could finally be adults about your tragic romance and co-exist long enough to give me, JC and Joe a fucking break.”_

 _Lance sighed. “So if you’re the bad cop, I should be expecting a call from JC any day now, am I right?”_

 _“Yep. Try not to be a dick.”_

 _“Hey, honey,” JC said breezily the next day._

 _“Hey, JC,” Lance sighed. He braced himself._

 _“Lance,” he said seriously. “We all know what we’re asking. Believe me, we do. But, well, the time just seems right. J doesn’t have anything else lined up right now, and I-”_

 _“Well, if_ Justin _doesn’t have anything to do, then by all means, let’s find him something,” Lance said bitterly. “We don’t want him to get bored with his life, or anything.”_

 _There was silence on the other end of the phone. Lance sighed again. “Sorry, C.” It wasn’t JC’s fault things were the way they were._

 _“It’s okay. Will you at least think about it?”_

 _“I’ve already been outvoted, JC. What’s there to think about?” Lance asked._

 _“The state of mind you approach it with, I guess,” JC answered, which as good as told Lance that he was right, he didn’t have a choice. He had indeed been outvoted._

 _The big NSYNC grand reunion was going to happen, whether Lance wanted it to or not._

 _“The way I see it, Lance, you have two choices,” his mother said. “You can either go into this with the attitude that it’s going to be the worst experience of your life, and then it probably will be, and you can tell us all_ I told you so, _or,” and she paused for breath while Lance sputtered indignantly, “Or, you can go into it with an open mind, and see how it goes before you decide it’s the worst experience of your life.”_

 _“That’s not fair,” Lance protested._

 _“And you can give Justin a chance,” his mother went on, ignoring his interruption._

 _“Are you kidding me? You did not just say that.”_

 _“No, I’m not kidding you. Think about it, Lance.”_

 _So Lance thought about it._

 _And when Joey called him, he sighed, “Okay. I’ll try.”_

 _*_

 _“Goddamn Orlando traffic,” Justin muttered to himself as he fought his way to the WEG compound. It was just after lunchtime, and he’d forgotten that, as bad as LA traffic was, Orlando traffic still had to power to annoy the shit out of him. Being late to this meeting wasn’t a great way to start things off._

 _He was nervous, and his hands slid a little on the steering wheel as he swung his leased BMW into the compound parking area. He hadn’t seen Lance in over a year, not since the night of the 2007 Grammys. JC, Joey and Lance’s family had formed a protective cadre around him then, and Justin hadn’t been invited to be a part of it. After, Justin had kept his distance, busy with the SexyBack tour, and filming_ Moonlighting. __

 _But Lance had never been far from his thoughts, especially since he had made the decision to push for a reunion, and knowing that they were finally going to be in the same room at the same time again had Justin’s heart racing and his palms sweating._

 _The minute Justin walked into the conference room, he was aware of Lance, standing off to the side, his eyes fastened hungrily on Justin. Justin knew right then that there was a chance, and his heart gave a little leap. When he finally disentangled himself from the others, and turned to say hello to Lance, they stared at each other uncertainly. Then Lance drew himself up and said coldly, “Hey, J. How you doing, man?” and Justin knew he had his work cut out for him._

 _He reached forward and they shook hands, and Justin said, “Good, good. You?”_

 _Lance nodded. “Fine. I’m good. Real good.”_

 _Justin couldn’t seem to stop saying, “Good,” and Chris made a noise like he was about to say something no one wanted to hear, so Justin shut up and sat down._

 _The rest of them followed suit, everyone but Chris looking uncomfortable, and Johnny in particular looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than at this particular table. It took a little time, but eventually they relaxed and started to discuss the basics of a reunion CD and tour. It all felt very precarious to Justin, and he was careful and tentative about expressing his opinions, until Chris finally said with exasperation, “Jesus, we’ll never get anything done this way. Yes, Justin, JC is a genius in the studio, and yes, JC, Justin has the best ear for talent ever, but for fuck’s sake, express a fucking opinion or shut up and let someone else do it.”_

 _They all laughed, even Lance, and after that, they actually got something accomplished. It wasn’t bad for a first meeting, and Justin felt pretty good about it. It felt completely right to be doing this again, to be one of five again._

He stood in the hallway with the others, waiting for Lance and Joey to come out of the bathroom so they could go out to dinner, at Chris’s insistence, of course. Chris was very big on marking important occasions with a meal or a party or a celebration of some kind. Lance brushed by them all without a word, and Joey said as he came up to them, shaking his head, “I guess it’s just the five of us tonight. Come on, John, I’ll show you what I mean when I say a good _Italian restaurant.”_

 _Justin was disappointed that Lance wouldn’t come to dinner with them, but he wasn’t surprised. It was okay. Justin had plenty of time._

*

It’s the last show of the tour, and it’s in Orlando, naturally. Lance is both terrified and exhilarated. Terrified because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after this. Exhilarated, because this tour has been the best experience of his life, and he never wants it to end. He’s in love, he’s still in love with Justin, and Justin loves him, and Lance knew Justin was his forever, he just _knew_ it, and he was _fucking_ right.

He does know they’re taking a break, and neither one of them is working for at least a month. They’re going away, just the two of them, and that’s something they’ve never had a chance to do before. London is Justin’s favorite city in the world, and Lance really hasn’t spent much time there at all, so they’re leaving in three days, after they get some sleep.

After much debate, they decide they’re taking Lonnie with them.

Lynn and Diane are staying home.

Whether they come back to another NSYNC album, a solo album, a movie, a TV show, it doesn’t matter at all. This is the beginning, not the end.

Lance looks around the Quiet Room. Chris and JC are on one couch, JC talking quietly into his phone, Chris flipping idly through a magazine, his head in JC’s lap. JC’s fingers tangle in his hair, pulling softly at the curls sticking out of the back of his bandana.

Joey’s dozing on the other couch, a half-eaten sandwich still in his hand, resting on his stomach. Lance goes over and wrests the sandwich out of his grasp, putting it back on the plate. Joey stirs a little in his sleep.

Lance smiles at Justin, just as Anthony pokes his head in the door. “Fifteen minutes ‘till makeup. Don’t be late.”

Lance takes Justin’s hand and pulls. “Come on.” He tugs him into the empty bathroom and closes and locks the door behind them.

He smiles up at Justin, whose eyes are dark with desire. Justin’s tongue comes out and licks at his bottom lip, and Lance feels the same catch in his chest he felt the first time he watched Justin do that so many years ago. Lance tugs at Justin’s underwear, and just before he blows Justin to within an inch of his life, he grins and says, “Don’t wanna fuck with tradition, do we?”


End file.
